Draco and Harry: Escorts
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: Part Three in the Escort Service Trilogy. Part One was cute, Part Two was slashy steaming hot, and Part Three should be a nice combination of the two. Friends can be such a problem. This fic contains MATURE adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**Draco and Harry: Escorts**

**Chapter One**

Harry leaned back into the delightful warmth and thought about waking up, but the dream was too enticing. A hand glided languidly from his shoulder over his bicep, down his forearm and linked long fingers through his. Harry's hand was lifted to curl under his chin and he felt a thumb trail slowly over the edge of his jaw.

He smiled in contentment and tugged the hand up to his lips to press a kiss against the knuckles as his consciousness caught on to the fact that it was no dream, just as a pair of lips pressed into the side of his neck, followed by teeth opening in a gentle nip and a teasing flick of wet tongue.

Harry smiled and kissed the knuckles once more before taking the tip of one finger into his mouth. He licked it and then sucked on it gently.

Draco chuckled against his neck.

"Are you going to wake me up like this every day?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No, usually I'll try to seduce you."

Harry groaned. "I thought that's what you were doing."

"You're so easy," Draco murmured. Harry rolled over and pressed a kiss against his hot mouth and they gave up on the idea of getting out of bed for awhile.

Later, Harry toyed with Draco's ultra-fine hair as his head rested on Harry's chest.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked. Malfoy made a sound of protest.

"You love to complain about your clothing budget, but have you seen the food bill? You eat like a starved lion."

"It's your fault for cooking like a bloody gourmet. Where did you learn that? You certainly would not have had to cook growing up."

The platinum-topped head rose and Draco's silver eyes met Harry's.

"Definitely not. I had to lean to fend for myself after they burned this house down. No house, no house-elves, no parents. I would have starved but for a delightful witch I ran into at a pub in Cardiff. She taught me everything she knew."

"I'll bet."

"You should thank her for that one little maneuver you like. You know, the one that starts at the small of your back and…"

Harry's instant blush caused Draco to laugh.

"You did ask."

"I was talking about food."

"All right, I'll make your breakfast." Draco pushed himself up and climbed out of bed. Harry watched his magnificent physique for a moment before Draco tugged on a black velvet dressing gown. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder. "When are you planning to go see Granger and the Weasel?"

"Weasley and the Weasel," Harry corrected. "They're married, remember?"

"Just what the world needed. Another Weasley," Draco said and Harry could picture him rolling his eyes even though he had turned away.

"And it's 'we,'" Harry added.

"We? Not Weasley?"

"No. _We_ are going to see them. Not just me. We. As in you and me."

Draco stilled and turned back to Harry. His eyes narrowed in that way Harry had come to liken to storm clouds preparing to hurl lightning. The platinum head shook in denial.

"Oh no. Absolutely not."

"Absolutely yes. You are coming with me."

"To what purpose?"

"It's our job, for one thing. Hermione asked us to escort them."

"She asked _you_ to escort them."

"We are a team now. They are just going to have to get used to it."

"You plan to divulge everything in a paroxysm of Gryffindor guilt, don't you?"

Harry scowled. "That's not how I would phrase it, but yes, I plan to tell them the truth about us."

Draco dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture he must have picked up from Harry.

"Look, they already hate me enough without blaming me for your moral degradation," he said.

"It isn't your fault and it isn't moral degradation, either!" Harry snapped, pushing himself out of bed and snatching another dressing gown.

"Good luck convincing the Weasels of that," Draco replied and stalked out.

ooOoo

Harry treated Draco to an extreme dose of Gryffindor stubbornness for the remainder of the morning, but Malfoy had an astounding amount of natural resistance, no doubt the result of primarily getting everything he ever wanted. Harry, however, had never grasped the concept of giving up.

Draco became so annoyed he refused to make lunch and retreated to the library to loudly lay planks on the floor. Harry relented for a time and went to examine Lucius Malfoy's private book collection. An owl came from Hermione confirming that she expected them that evening.

Harry showed it to Draco.

"See? They expect _us_."

"They will be disappointed," Draco replied. He had finished the floor and was busy levitating the excess materials into a neat pile.

Harry stepped forward, grabbed Malfoy and slammed him into the wall. He met the angry grey eyes evenly.

"I really want you to come with me," he said in a cajoling tone.

Draco scowled. "You know you're driving me stark raving mad."

"I'll stop if you just agree to come along." Harry pressed his fingers over Malfoy's lips to still his words. "In fact, I'll even let you decide what to tell them. I won't divulge anything without your approval."

Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and tugged his hand away.

"Truly? Won't you explode or something if you keep that big a secret from your minions?"

"They're not minions, and I'd rather have you with me."

He kissed Draco lingeringly to emphasize his words and the Slytherin sighed again.

"You'll not give up, will you?"

"Not if I have to tie your unconscious body to my broom."

"And _I_ decide whether or not you tell all to the Weasels?"

"You decide."

"You win, then, damn you."

Harry smiled triumphantly.

ooOoo

They headed for Ottery St. Catchpole later that afternoon. It was fairly close to Malfoy Manor and they encountered nothing threatening on the way. The house was larger than Draco had expected, but exactly as quaint as predicted. It did have a low stone wall rather than a white picket fence, but it was appropriately festooned with a multitude of flowers in happy colors.

Hermione must have been watching from a window, for the instant they touched down on the road before the house, she bolted outside and threw herself on Harry. Her eyes slid sidelong to Draco. While he did not see the expected animosity reflected in her brown eyes, he did not see a friendly welcome, either. She looked much the same as she had at Hogwarts, though a bit taller.

She stepped back from Harry and nodded at Draco.

"Malfoy," she said flatly. "Welcome." He grinned, as she had managed to make the word mean the exact opposite.

"Granger," he said in the same tone.

"It's Weasley now," she corrected primly.

"No hyphen?" Draco asked with a raised brow. "You always struck me as the hyphenating type."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't start already!" Harry snapped. The front door opened again and Ron Weasley sauntered out, looking extraordinarily bizarre with longish hair and a rather sparse beard. Malfoy wondered if Ron affected the look merely to annoy his domineering wife—it seemed the sort of passive-aggressive revenge Weasley would take. Ron embraced Harry as well—quite the huggers, Gryffindors—and must have decided that ignoring Draco was the best policy. He shot Malfoy a single glare and dragged Harry into the house with an arm around his neck, leaving Draco and Hermione to stare at each other in uncomfortable silence until she grudgingly asked, "Would you like to come inside?"

To which Draco promptly replied," No, I think I'll bed down out here with the marigolds."

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the wisest thing he could have said, because he could see her itching to tell him to do that very thing. He grinned and managed—barely—to keep it from turning into a smirk. Harry spared Hermione from swallowing her pride and forcing Draco inside by sticking his dark head out the door.

"Malfoy, get in here."

Draco threw Harry an irritated look, mainly for his imperious tone, but also for spoiling his Granger-baiting. Draco hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

"As you wish, Chosen One," Draco said shortly and inclined his head in a subservient fashion. Harry quirked a grin at him and shook his head before retreating. Hermione turned and went inside. Draco propped his broom on the porch next to Harry's and entered the house.

It was cozy and well-kept. Even though it grated on Draco's nerves to admit it, he couldn't really find fault with anything. The furnishings were traditional and much to Draco's taste—mostly pale oak upholstered with muted fabrics in earth tones.

The trio sat on the couch with Harry in the middle, leaving Draco to sprawl casually in a chair near the unlit fireplace. He did so while pretending to ignore them, although he did catch the apologetic glance Harry threw at him.

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked.

"To see Tonks and Lupin. Their owl post said they'll be back tomorrow, right?" Hermione said. "Of course, we wanted to come see you, anyway."

"Why do you need an escort? As Draco said, you could have handled anything out there on your own."

Draco caught Hermione's look of surprise, but whether it was generated by shock at Harry's use of his first name or the possibility of Malfoy paying her a roundabout compliment was uncertain. Probably both.

"I wanted to make sure you didn't scurry off on another job and figured the best way to ascertain that was to hire you myself," she said. Ron nodded and Draco wondered if Weasley was ever allowed to squeeze a word in edgewise. He almost felt sorry for Ron living with the budding termagant. Harry might be bossy at times, but at least he shut up on occasion, especially when Draco slid his tongue halfway down Potter's throat…

Draco grinned wickedly at the memory and his gaze warmed when he looked at Harry, who blushed as if on cue. Draco nearly laughed aloud. Hermione's sharp gaze passed from one of them to the other, but even she couldn't put those limited clues together. He could see her filing it away for future reference before turning to Harry.

"How did you and Malfoy end up working together?" she asked.

"We figured it involved an _Imperius Curse_," Ron muttered.

"Lupin hired him to escort me to find the last Horcrux. Draco saved my life a few times."

Draco avoided Harry's gaze, knowing to look at him with _that_ memory in mind would be to reveal all. They had saved each other on that journey; in more ways than one.

"You know how suicidal Gryffindors are," Draco said dryly. "It wasn't that hard."

Harry snapped his fingers and got up. "I wanted you to look at this, Hermione." He made his way to the door where his backpack sat propped against the wall. He rooted in it for a moment until he found a sheaf of papers that he handed to Hermione.

"What is this?" she asked after skimming the words.

"Lucius Malfoy's notes. I'm hoping to find a way to reverse the spell that makes _Apparition_ impossible. The notes are random and I haven't had much time to look at them."

Hermione looked at Draco. "What do you know about these?"

Draco shrugged. "Nothing. This is Potter's obsession. I haven't looked through my father's things at all." His voice was dead even, but his eyes dared Harry to comment. Harry knew why Draco took no interest in his father's library. Avoidance was Malfoy's preferred method of dealing with the deaths of his parents. So far, Harry had left the subject alone.

Hermione set the papers on a nearby table.

"I'll read these a bit later. It's time to eat."

They filed into the small dining room and Harry sat next to Draco on one side of the table. Hermione sat across from Malfoy with Ron across from Harry. Hermione turned out to be an absolutely dreadful cook. Draco managed to refrain from comment, largely due to the fact that Harry reached down and gave his knee a sharp squeeze every time he opened his mouth to do anything other than place another forkful of food inside.

When the interminable dinner was finished, Hermione led them down the hall to a pair of rooms.

"I'm afraid the nursery hasn't been furnished, yet," she said apologetically.

"Nursery?" Harry asked loudly. Hermione blushed furiously.

"Well, it's unfurnished so, obviously, we won't need it any time soon!" she protested. Harry laughed. "_Anyway_," she continued, "I set up a cot in the guest room. You two can fight over who gets the bed. Just don't kill each other deciding. You don't mind staying in the same room, do you? We can move the cot into the nursery, if you'd prefer."

The small guest room contained one full sized bed and a few smaller furnishings. A thick-mattressed cot had been placed against the far wall.

Draco and Harry exchanged an amused glance. They both knew the cot wouldn't be getting much use that night.

"This is fine, Hermione," Harry said. Draco sat on the cot and tugged his boots off; hoping Granger (Weasley) would get the hint. She babbled on for a bit longer, giving Draco directions to the lavatory and explaining where towels and blankets were kept and so on. Malfoy lay back on the cot with hands propped behind his head and ignored her until she ran out of steam.

"We should get an early start in the morning, Harry, so be sure you're awake by 7 a.m. or so," she said. "Is there anything else you need?"

"If so, I'm sure I can find it myself, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh. "I've been here dozens of times."

She smiled. "So you have." She gave him a spontaneous hug. "It's good to see you, Harry. Good night." Her gaze slid to Draco as if thinking about wishing him a good night but unable to find a sincere way to do so.

"Don't bother," he said dryly.

Hermione looked at Harry. "Which is worse?" she asked. "Fighting Voldemort or working with Malfoy?" With that, she huffed down the hall and Harry shut the door behind her.

The latch had barely clicked before Draco's hands and mouth were on Harry, devouring him with pent-up frustration, pressing him against the door and drinking in his essence.

"Which is worse, Potter?" he asked against Harry's mouth.

"Voldemort," Harry replied in a husky whisper. "No question."

Draco laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

The door was hard against Harry's back and Draco was hard against his front—hard and warm and trembling with tightly-leashed tension. Harry gladly succumbed to Draco's heady onslaught. Malfoy felt incredible. They had been apart mere hours, but the strain had made it seem much longer.

Draco's kiss was sweet torture, fanning Harry's smoldering desire. He fought the feeling. Draco's hands—_oh God, his hands_—roamed over Harry's trembling form and rose to the neck of his shirt. The motion snapped Harry out of his growing fog of longing.

"No!" he gasped. "No, not the—"

It was too late. The sound of buttons falling was muted by the carpet, except one that pinged off the door.

"—shirt," Harry finished lamely.

"It's my shirt," Draco murmured, nuzzling Harry's chest revealed by the open fabric. It was true. All of Harry's clothes were back in London.

"We can't… do this," Harry gasped.

"I know," Draco breathed, but his hand did not cease their movement. "I just like to torment you."

"You are beyond evil," Harry said. Draco dragged him to the bed and Harry lay back with a soft moan of defeat. Malfoy removed Harry's boots and tossed them aside before unfastening his jeans and sliding those off as well.

Draco stripped down to his boxers and then crawled onto the bed and lay beside Harry. He threw an arm over Potter's chest and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight, then," Draco said sweetly.

Harry fairly gnashed his teeth in frustration. The Slytherin had brought Harry to the brink of exploding with need and now he planned to just drop off to sleep?

"You are abominable," Harry gritted.

"Now, Harry, the walls are thin and this bed creaks terribly. We can't disturb the Weasleys, you know."

"I really hate you."

Draco chuckled. "Some things never change. Now go to sleep. If you can."

Eventually, Harry did, wrapped in Draco's embrace.

ooOoo

Harry woke up alone. The blankets from the unused cot were neatly folded and a fresh shirt had been laid out for Harry. As he tugged his clothes on, he smelled food cooking, so he padded barefoot down the hall, tugging the larger tangles from his hair with his fingers.

Draco grinned at him from the stove.

"You know, they have these magical devices commonly known as combs," Malfoy commented.

"So I've been told."

"You can borrow mine, if you'd like."

"I wouldn't dream of defiling such a sacred object. Why are you cooking?"

"Because I'd rather starve than eat anther meal prepared by Granger."

"Oh really?" Hermione asked archly from the doorway.

"Absolutely," Draco replied vehemently. Harry sighed and yanked at his hair again, knowing it was going to be a very long day.

Hermione ignored Malfoy after that, but none of them could complain about his incredible breakfast. Harry set the kitchen to rights and Malfoy went outside to wait. Ron and Hermione scurried about performing last minute chores and gathering items.

They were in the air by 8 o'clock. The weather was cooperative, for once, cloudless and warm.

Draco took the lead, although Harry was careful not to let him get too far ahead. He hung back with Ron and Hermione and told them a very abridged tale of his first trip with Draco. Even after leaving out volumes of detail, it was an interesting story of carnivorous canyons, dryads, centaurs, and serpents.

Hermione rode with Ron because she despised flying. Draco's steady look at Harry had been silent witness to his disapproval—it was safer for each traveler to ride alone—but he said nothing. Hermione had brought the items from the Malfoy library and lamented that she could not read them while flying.

Harry nearly suggested they stop off at Malfoy Manor in order to give her time to do some real research, but he did not think Draco was quite ready to have his least favorite Gryffindors tromping through his mansion, even in its current state of renovation.

They ran into a single threat on the way to London; the same pack of dementors Harry had shredded on his way to find Draco. The three Gryffindors cast _Patronus_ spells, but Malfoy shot a horrifying burst of jagged purple light that seemed to detonate each dark creature it contacted.

"What was that?" Hermione asked Harry, who scowled. Draco hated to cast a _Patronus_, preferring more permanent solutions.

"He calls it a _Disruptor_," Harry replied reluctantly.

"What does it do?" she asked and Harry shrugged, not willing to answer. Basically, it killed dementors and pretty much every other dark creature Malfoy used it on. They had argued about Draco's use of deadly force time and again, but the only resolution they ever reached was namecalling. Harry would label Draco a bloodthirsty, soulless, insensitive, malicious tyrant, and Malfoy would retort that Potter was a candy-coated, idealistic, naive, asinine nancy-boy and that would be the end of the discussion.

They reached Harry's house in early afternoon after taking a convoluted route through London. It would have been faster to take a Muggle cab, but the hassle of trying to convince Malfoy of that fact would likely have cancelled any time saving.

Tonks and Lupin heard them enter and hurried into the entry hall to greet them. Tonks gave Harry an exuberant hug and then did the same to Draco, causing Ron and Hermione to blink in surprise.

"Good to see you, cousin," she said happily and kissed Malfoy on the cheek. Draco rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell by the set of his mouth that he was pleased. It still surprised him, on occasion, that someone who appeared so straightforwardly egocentric on the outside could have so many layers of varied emotion beneath the surface.

"Nice hair," Malfoy commented. Tonks grinned. Her hair was as platinum-blonde as Draco's and cut attractively, although it was a bit longer than usual.

"It's French," she said in a stage whisper. She greeted Hermione and Ron happily and Lupin shook hands all around—leaving out Draco, of course. Malfoy was still something of a bigoted arse when it came to werewolves, although he and Remus got on well enough these days.

They all gathered around the kitchen table for tea and Lupin looked pointedly at Harry.

"Would you care to explain the items currently piled haphazardly in the parlour? One can barely walk in there edgewise. And what do you plan to do with an Amulet of Demon Summoning?"

Harry had not yet thought of a plausible excuse for the huge number of Dark Arts items he had purchased from Borgin and Burkes in exchange for information on Draco's whereabouts.

"They're mine," Draco said. "I'll be moving them to Malfoy Manor as soon as I finish the antechamber where they will be stored."

Lupin wisely refrained from comment.

"What's with the buttons?" Tonks asked and gestured to a pile of small objects on the center of the table. "I found six in the hall and two on the stairs." Harry's gaze flew to Draco, who grinned wickedly. He hoped Malfoy would speak up with another plausible lie, but this time he seemed content to watch Harry squirm.

"Spilled a packet," Harry said lamely.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked Tonks. Harry thought it was a damned odd question—as far as he knew, Tonks wasn't ill. Unaccountably, Tonks blushed.

"I'm great." She looked directly at Harry and went on, "No morning sickness or anything."

Hermione sighed happily. "Oh, it's so exciting!"

Harry's mind slowly replayed the conversation and Draco's rich laugh rang through the room.

"Congratulations, cousin," Draco said. Harry blinked at Tonks and she grinned.

"Yep, Remus is going to be a daddy." She patted Lupin's hand affectionately and Remus smiled at her. Harry scowled.

"How did Hermione know? I live here and she knew before I did?"

Tonks threw a guilty look at Hermione.

"We weren't sure how you'd feel about us living here. With an infant, you know. The noise, the bother…"

"Of course I still want you to live here!" Harry said angrily. "Did you think I would toss you into the street?"

Tonks looked guilty.

"Of course not. I just…well, you don't need us here anymore. You have your powers back… and now you have a job, which you seem to enjoy."

"Are you saying you _want_ to move?" Harry was getting confused.

"No, Harry," Remus said quickly. "We love being here with you and we'll gladly stay as long as you'll have us. We just want to be sure we haven't worn out our welcome, as it were."

Harry was relieved.

"Hell, no. I don't want you to leave. Sirius would love the idea of you two being here. And why would I want to be alone in this monstrous mausoleum, anyway? I like having the company."

Tonks hurried around the table and hugged him impulsively. She planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.

"Oh, Harry, you're the best! I guess I was being an idiot."

He nodded. "I guess so." Then the news sank in and he grinned at her foolishly. "I'm going to be an uncle! Sort of." Harry hugged her and laughed at Lupin. The mood turned rather festive after that and they cracked open a bottle of champagne. Even Tonks had a couple of sips while she and Malfoy prepared dinner. Harry caught Draco watching him enigmatically a couple of times and he wondered what the Slytherin was thinking.

Lupin and Tonks kept them entertained throughout the meal with tales of their time on the Continent, which thankfully kept Malfoy and the Weasleys from verbally drawing blood.

After dinner, the Lupins withdrew to their room—actually, Harry had given them the entire third floor—and Harry took Ron and Hermione up to the fourth floor, for once thankful that the five-story house had a multitude of bedrooms to choose from.

Harry occupied the second floor—with Draco when he was in residence. He made sure Ron and Hermione were settled, gave goodnight hugs, and hurried back downstairs to find Draco waiting in the front hall, looking uncomfortable.

"I should go home," Draco said.

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Home? You mean the Museum of Modern Ice? That horrible, virginal flat of yours?"

Draco scowled. "What's wrong with it?"

"I'll compile a list for you. Just come upstairs." Harry thought he did a decent job keeping the desperation out of his voice. Draco shook his head.

"All your friends are here. You're not alone now. All these people—they are making me a bit claustrophobic."

Harry stepped forward and put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Please stay." So much for not sounding desperate. Draco shut his eyes and Harry knew he was already wavering. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against Malfoy's neck. "Please."

Draco groaned and Harry smiled in triumph as Malfoy's arms went around him and crushed him in an ardent embrace.

"Fine, but I'm going back to Malfoy Manor tomorrow."

Harry would deal with that problem later. For now, he just wanted Draco upstairs in his room—in his bed.

Harry slipped out of Malfoy's arms, but grabbed his hand and led him up the steps to Harry's room. The instant the door was shut and latched behind them Harry turned and bonded his lips to Draco's. He attacked Malfoy like a starved animal and chuckled when he tore Draco's shirt open in a frenzy.

Malfoy's eyes glinted at him in burnished amusement.

"A bit eager tonight, are we?" he asked.

"Remember last night?" Harry growled.

Draco groaned. "Must you always get revenge?"

"When it involves you? Yes."

He unbuckled Draco's belt and slid a hand into his pants. Draco drew in a sharp breath.

"Lord, revenge really is sweet," Malfoy whispered.

Harry laughed softly. He used his free hand to pull Draco's buttonless shirt off. For once, Malfoy did not pop Harry's buttons; he merely grabbed the hem of Harry's shirt and dragged it straight up over his head.

The cuffs, however, were too tight to slide off without unfastening, which left Harry partially trapped in the material. He had enough movement to put his hands on Draco's hips and loosen his trousers, which dropped around his ankles. Harry laughed when he realized Draco still wore his boots—now his slacks were stuck like Harry's shirt.

ooOoo

Draco sighed. He did not feel like shuffling over to the bed—Malfoys did not shuffle, for one thing—so he undid Harry's jeans and pushed them down instead. Harry stepped out of them easily and a bit smugly; as usual, he was barefoot. His briefs followed and then Draco spun him around. He pressed his chest against Harry's back and rubbed his hands over Potter's soft skin. Harry's head fell back against Draco's shoulder and Malfoy nibbled the side of his neck, grinning when Harry sighed with pleasure.

Draco's hands drew downward and grabbed Harry's hipbones to pull him closer. Harry's tight ass felt fantastic against Draco's hard shaft.

Harry struggled to get his hands out of the shirt, but Draco snagged the material and pulled it up to hook the shirt behind Potter's neck, effectively trapping Harry's hands close to his head.

"What are you doing?" Harry breathed.

For reply, Malfoy guided Harry's knees open with one booted foot.

"Just lean back."

Draco conjured a handful of lubricant—silent, wandless magic Harry envied no small amount—and smoothed it over the length of Harry's hard member. Potter's breath hissed in sharply and Draco felt a tremor shake the length of his body.

He cast the same spell and this time applied it to himself before bending his knees slightly. Keeping his left hand firmly on Harry's cock, Draco thrust himself gently into Harry from behind, delighting in the shudder of pleasure that rocked the Gryffindor's frame.

Draco straightened, lifting Harry to the balls of his feet. He gasped and clutched at the only thing he could reach with bound hands—Draco's head. Harry's palms cupped Draco's jaw and Malfoy leaned his head forward until his cheek touched Harry's. Draco wanted to hear every whimpering gasp Potter made as Draco rocked him to his toes and back over and over.

Malfoy tried to keep his left hand moving in cadence—he didn't want to neglect Harry, though from Potter's actions, he wasn't feeling neglected at all. Harry's hands became almost painfully twisted in Draco's hair and every gasping breath became a repetitious chant of Draco's name, which may have been the hottest sound Malfoy had ever heard.

Harry's head tipped back and his back arched, nearly sending Draco over the edge. Draco's right hand was clamped over Harry's chest, gripping him tightly to keep them both from falling. He could feel Harry's heart hammering madly. Potter gave a harsh gasp that was almost a yelp and then came with an immense shudder. The sensation shattered the last of Draco's control and he bit Harry's jaw gently to keep from crying out as his own orgasm shook him.

They stood, trembling and panting, as the sweat began to cool on their skin. Draco unimpaled Harry and trailed his hands over the wetness on Harry's torso. Potter's hand loosened in Draco's hair, but did not completely let go.

"Bath?" Draco murmured.

"Last time it took us two hours to bathe," Harry said.

"You kept distracting me." Draco lifted the rumpled shirt from behind Harry's head and helped him extricate his hands. Potter knelt and pulled off Draco's boots before tugging his trousers away at last.

"A very short bath," Harry said with a grin.

They were tired enough to stick to business, so in less than twenty minutes they lay in Harry's bed, clean and slightly damp.

Draco's head lay on Harry's chest and he listened to the slow thump of Potter's heart. Harry's hand idly brushed Draco's shoulders. Malfoy had never known such contentment. It still amazed him at times, when he allowed himself to analyze it.

Harry Potter, the bane of his existence.

"Draco? I…"

Malfoy waited, but Harry seemed to have lost his words.

"You what, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "Never mind." Potter's hands tightened for a moment on Draco's skin and Malfoy shifted slightly to press a kiss on Harry's smooth chest."

"Goodnight, Chosen One."

"Goodnight, Draco."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

Draco was gone when Harry woke, but the indentation on the pillow next to him gave evidence that Malfoy had not been gone long. A tray sat on the bedside table with a spelled teapot, teacup, and Harry's glasses. Harry leaned over and set the tea brewing while vaguely wondering where Draco had gone. A twinge of concern wrinkled his brow. Hopefully he had not gone back to Malfoy Manor as threatened.

What if he had? Would Harry abandon his friends and hie after him again? God, Harry would like to think not, but the truth was he wasn't sure.

As he drank his tea, he realized the knowledge did not even bother him any more. His need for Draco had grown out of his control—stronger than anything he had ever felt for anyone. His only concern was not knowing how Malfoy felt. Draco's reluctance to disclose their relationship was both understandable and a bit frustrating.

Harry had always been lucky in one way: The people he loved loved him back. It was something he had grown to count on. Until now.

He got out of bed and put on clean clothes, saving socks and shoes for later. On his way out the door, he stepped on a button. As he picked it up, he smiled and felt a rush of warmth at the memory of the night before. Hell, even if Malfoy didn't love him, at least he wouldn't get bored with Harry any time soon. Harry would make bloody certain of that.

Harry thumped quickly down the stairs hoping to find Draco in the kitchen, but instead he found Lupin and Hermione sipping tea. Harry disguised his disappointment with a grin.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione poured him a cup of tea.

"He sleeps late these days. I never got out of the habit of rising at the crack of dawn."

"Tonks will sleep until dinnertime if I let her," Lupin said. "And then she wants to stay up all night long. It takes a toll on an old man like me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You aren't still going on about your age difference, are you?"

"No, she cured me of that, mostly." Remus chuckled.

Harry gulped his tea and wondered if he should send Hedwig after Malfoy. Just to find out where he went. He leaped to his feet to do just that after mumbling some sort of excuse to his surprised friends. He was crossing the front hall to the stairs when the front door opened.

Draco stood there, looking as though he had spent the night elsewhere and decided to drop in for morning tea. He grinned at Harry.

"Did you know there are Muggle stores that stay open all night long?" Malfoy asked excitedly. Harry was stymied.

"You went to a Muggle store?"

"Yes. I remembered my shades were broken. I really missed them yesterday—it was bloody bright out."

"You shopped in a Muggle store? Alone?"

Draco scowled. "Of course alone. I'm not helpless. I took some of that Muggle money you keep in the jar by the…" _Bed_, Harry finished as Draco trailed off. The silver eyes had shifted and Harry turned to see Hermione in the doorway.

"Malfoy, I was hoping to see you this morning," she said. Harry's jaw fairly gaped in amazement, as she sounded completely sincere.

"Why? New hex you'd like to try out?" Draco asked dryly.

"No, I went over some of those papers Harry gave me yesterday. There are some notes I don't understand. They appear to be written in Greek."

"Most likely. My father wrote his journal in Greek, as well as most of his other private notes."

Hermione sighed. "Damn. It will take me awhile to translate them."

Malfoy hung his black cloak on a peg and absently handed Harry his shopping bag. Harry took it, feeling somewhat like a house-elf.

"Or I could just read it for you," Draco suggested.

"You read Greek?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Read, write, speak. Yes, fluently. The benefit of a classical education. Lucky me to have tutors every summer, eh?"

Another layer revealed. Harry wondered what else he did not know about the enigmatic Slytherin. Volumes, most likely.

"Excellent!" Hermione said. "Perhaps you'll have some insight into your father's writings that I would miss while trying to translate."

"No doubt," Draco said abruptly and pushed by her into the kitchen. Hermione scowled at Harry.

"He hasn't changed a bit," she said, but Harry gnawed his lip thoughtfully. He knew Draco's reasons for not looking through his father's things; it was simply too painful. Harry was surprised Draco had even offered to translate for her.

Harry opened the bag he held and was not surprised to see a dozen pairs of sunglasses in a variety of styles. Malfoy never did anything in half measures.

ooOoo

Draco made an assortment of crepes for breakfast and then retreated to the study with Hermione and Harry to pore over the books and papers from Malfoy Manor. Draco read through the random notes Harry had scooped from his father's desk, skimming for the most part. Lucius had often been cryptic to the point of incomprehensible and his notes frequently cross-referenced other notes using a code Draco thought he might be able to discern, given enough time.

Just looking at his father's flowery script was enough to make him nearly ill with a sense of loss. He avoided Harry's gaze completely, because Potter's empathy was the last thing Draco needed in Hermione Granger (Weasley's) presence.

Hermione flipped through a book of dark magic, shuddering now and again at some of the spells therein. Draco had intentionally given her one of the more horrifying tomes.

Ron wandered in and made a short pretense of helping out until Draco suggested Weasley would be more helpful up in the attic cleaning up owl pellets, after which Hermione had to drag her frothing mad husband from the room.

"Is that absolutely necessary?" Harry asked when Ron and Hermione were out of earshot.

"Taunting Weasley? Yes, it is."

Harry sighed. "Why are you doing this? I know you hate research—I've been trying to get you to help me with it for a month."

"I hate research when I could be shagging you instead, but that doesn't seem to be an option at the moment."

Harry's cheeks visibly pinked and Draco laughed. Damn, but Harry was alluring at times. Like now, when he was barefoot with his form-fitting Muggle jeans and pale blue button-up shirt open at the neck; his hair delightfully rumpled, as usual, and his bloody glasses making those bright green eyes look even wider and more innocent—combined with that damned sweet blush of his…

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Isn't there somewhere you can go today?" Malfoy asked suddenly. "If you seriously want me to research this damned _Apparition_ problem. Can't you take the Weasel out and buy him a decent set of clothes?"

"You want me to leave?" Harry asked, sounding surprised.

"You're damned distracting!" Draco burst out and Harry's eyes widened in surprise before he grinned. Hermione returned at that moment and sighed.

"I swear, we haven't been here a single day and already Ron is pacing like a caged animal. It's a pity there is nowhere for him to play Quidditch. It would get him out of the house."

"I think I'll take him to Diagon Alley to visit Fred and George," Harry suggested. Hermione threw him a grateful look.

"Would you, Harry? I hate to give this up, now that we've started. I promised Tonks I'd shop with her, but she's not even awake yet, so that can wait until this afternoon or tomorrow."

Harry nodded, gave Draco a farewell grin and went out.

Granger—Draco gave up completely trying to think of her as a Weasley—took up the book she had been thumbing through.

"Have you found anything at all useful?" she asked. He blinked at her for a moment, trying not to say something scathing, for once. Gryffindors. Bloody impatient, the lot of them.

"Potter has been searching for a month. Do you really think we're going to find the answer in a couple of hours?"

She sat down heavily. "No, I suppose not."

Draco relented. He supposed she was only trying to help, in her own annoying way.

"Look, I was still a semi-official Death Eater back when Voldemort was planning this madness. I wasn't paying much attention at the time, since I was scrambling to save my own skin. However, I know the spell took a group to cast—it wasn't something Voldemort did alone."

"That should be ritual magic, then."

"Which Potter and I suspected, anyway, considering that it seems to be self-sustaining. None of the spells vanished when Voldemort did. It also seems to be able to adapt."

"Adapt?"

Draco sat back and steepled his fingers with the absent recollection that Lucius used to make the same gesture. "In the past year, I've run across a lot of wild magic and it all seems very different on the surface: nullification fields, darkness zones, choking mist, and far worse. However, I believe the root is the same."

"You think a single spell is responsible for _all_ of the rampant dark magic?" Hermione seemed surprised.

"A single spell, cast several times in different areas, of course. They would set it free, so to speak, and allow it to wreak havoc where it would. A handy consequence, of course, was its effect on _Apparition_. If the wild, dark magic gets wrapped up in an _Apparition_ spell—on either end—the result will be unpredictable and often deadly"

"So if we can locate the original spell, we might be able to reverse it!"

"Possibly. Unfortunately, Voldemort did not leave a handy booklet outlining the process."

"No, but maybe Lucius did," she said sagely.

Draco nodded. "Maybe." It was more than possible, since Lucius had no real fondness for his role as a Death Eater. Draco should have looked for the solution before now; he simply hadn't had the resolve.

Hermione said, "We'll just have to keep looking then, and hope."

Hope. A primary Gryffindor trait. Right behind bravery and impatience.

"Malfoy?" Hermione added. Draco met her brown eyes and raised a silver brow. "It's nice to be spoken to as a fellow human being."

"Don't get used to it," he warned dryly, but he grinned when he said it. In truth, most of his pureblood ideals had been shattered in the war. And then there was Harry, whose blood Draco had once thought tainted. Now he would die before allowing a drop of it to be shed. Then again, everything in Draco's life could trace back to Harry one way or another.

He considered Hermione again. Draco no longer thought of her as a Mudblood; merely as an idealistic, overbearing, know-it-all, do-gooder. Which was quite bad enough.

The front door clicked shut on Potter as he and the Weasel departed. Draco rubbed his temples in annoyance when he realized he missed Harry already. Love was a bloody nuisance at times.

ooOoo

Fred and George were amazingly easy to differentiate when they got to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Fred was an intense shade of burgundy with greenish hair and George was a somewhat mottled purple, though his hair was its normal shade of red.

"Still using yourselves as test subjects?" Ron asked.

"Dare I even ask what you're working on?" Harry added.

"Chameleon Creams."

"To blend in with your surroundings. Sort of like a temporary Invisibility Cloak."

"So far they aren't working too well."

"I don't know, you'd blend with that huge tapestry of Godric Gryffindor at Hogwarts," Harry said. Ron guffawed.

"Yeah, you'd only have to put a potted palm in front of it for the hair."

"Don't laugh at scientific research," Fred huffed.

"Or you'll be sorry next time you come eat at our place," George added in a warning tone.

"I'm always sorry when I eat at your place!" Ron protested.

George grinned. "Well, maybe it was a bit unfair to put Liplocker Paste in your pudding."

"A _bit_? I couldn't eat for two days!"

"Yes, well now we have an antidote, so you don't need to worry about that one any more," Fred said airily. Ron glowered at him.

"Did you find Malfoy?" George asked Harry.

He nodded, recalling that it had been Fred and George that directed him to Borgin and Burkes.

"Tortured him good when you found him, I hope," Fred added. Harry swallowed and thought quickly of Flobberworms, Thestrals feeding on live animals, and Dolores Umbridge—anything to get his mind off of what he _had_ done to Draco once he'd located him. He managed to keep from blushing scarlet, thank goodness.

"Tortured him. Oh yes," Harry said hoarsely. He forged on, a bit frantically. "Have anything new and interesting for sale?"

Fred walked over to a shelf and picked up a coin-sized disk.

"We were working on this for the Ministry back in the day," he said.

"Portable silence chamber," George clarified. "Works better than a _Muffliato_ because it's completely soundproof."

"But it's only large enough for two."

"Until now," Fred said with a grin. He picked up a larger disk—this one was about the size of a flattened tennis ball.

"This will enclose a three meter circle."

"We can fit a dozen people under this."

"Shapely people," George added.

"Soft people," Fred agreed.

"_Girl_ people," they said in unison and sighed collectively.

"That was a fun experiment."

"Research isn't always difficult."

Harry chuckled, picturing the twins sandwiched into a large group of women. Ron sighed enviously.

"I went into the wrong business," he said.

"That reminds me," said George. "We have something here for you, little brother."

"Or, actually, for Hermione," Fred said with a smile. His teeth looked brilliantly white against his burgundy face. The twins wandered to a back corner of the store. George lifted a ceramic jar from a shelf and handed it to Ron, who read the label.

"Salacious Salve."

"We were trying to invent custard that caused hives or boils."

"It didn't quite work as expected."

"Works better as a body cream, actually."

"It _is_ edible, though."

"And tasty. We used Mum's old vanilla custard recipe as the base."

Ron recoiled. "Why would I want a cream that causes boils?"

"I told you, it didn't turn out as intended."

George shook his head. "What it _does_ do is increase sensitivity."

"Works great."

"That was a fun one to test," George murmured.

"Angelina still comes by once a week to see if the formula needs more tweaking."

"Angelina Johnson?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, she's a great test subject," Fred said dreamily with a faraway look. Harry thought Fred might have blushed if he weren't already wine-colored. Harry picked up a jar with a thrill of anticipation.

George cocked a brow at him.

"Got someone special in mind, Harry?"

Ron stared at him in surprise, but Harry shook his head.

"Thought I'd get one as a gift for Tonks and Lupin," he lied smoothly. He could always claim to have forgotten it. He picked up one of the Silence Chambers, also, thinking it could be useful for the business. Sometimes he and Malfoy had conversations that clients did not need to be privy to.

The twins, as always, refused to even consider taking Harry's money and even gave Ron a jar free of charge.

"Frankly, this stuff sells so well we're considering making a whole line of marital aids."

"I think you're just looking forward to the next test phase," Ron grumped.

George grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Call us if you want in, mate."

"It'll do you good."

Harry didn't bother to mention he already had more "good" than he could handle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

When Harry and Ron returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, no one was there to greet them. They dropped their purchases in the already-crowded parlour and Ron headed straight for the kitchen. Harry went to the study where they had left Draco and Hermione. It was empty, though the profusion of parchment and books gave evidence that they had been working for quite some time.

Ron met him in the hall, munching on a rolled-up leftover crepe.

"Bloody prat can really cook, can't he?" Ron mumbled around a mouthful.

Harry smiled. "Yeah." Harry had lost the waifish thinness he'd acquired since the war, but if he kept eating Malfoy's cooking, he'd start to look like Dudley.

"Where do you suppose everyone went?" Harry asked.

"Dunno. Maybe Hermione killed Malfoy and she's in the cellar burying the body," Ron suggested hopefully. If that were true, Harry felt it would likely be the other way around and he was suddenly worried about having left them alone. Surely Malfoy wouldn't hurt Hermione, no matter how much she annoyed him.

He took the stairs calmly at first, but by the time he got to the top, Harry was definitely hurrying. Harry's room was empty, as was Draco's. He bypassed the third floor, knowing Draco would never intrude on the Lupins' floor. Harry heard laughter when he reached the room where Ron and Hermione were staying.

The door was open, so Harry barged in without pausing. He stopped short at the sight of Hermione lying on her stomach on the bed, leaning over Draco's shoulder.

Draco sat on the floor with a huge book propped on his lap—his back rested against the bed. Hermione was practically breathing in Malfoy's ear as she tried to read the book he held. She was tapping the book with her wand and giggling. Draco rolled his eyes, but he had an amused grin on his face.

The scene seemed innocent enough, but _what the hell were they doing in the bedroom?_ Harry found himself shaking with rage and had to physically control himself from stalking into the room and… and what? Hexing them both? He took a deep breath to calm down.

"Harry!" Hermione burst out. "I didn't hear you come in."

Malfoy smiled at him pleasantly enough, but Hermione leaped off the bed. Harry studied her face carefully for signs of guilt. She looked flushed, but that might have been due to the realization that Ron's reaction would make Harry's look positively mild if he should stumble on the scene. Harry glanced over his shoulder to see if Ron had followed him, because chances were good that Ron would actually try to kill Draco without waiting for an explanation.

Hermione must have had the same thought, for she hurried past Harry and bolted down the stairs to head off Ron.

Harry turned a glacial look on Malfoy, who climbed slowly to his feet and tossed the book on the bed. Harry did not trust himself to speak.

"We found a reference to this book and Granger remembered seeing it in here last night," Malfoy said mildly.

It was still "Granger" at least, but then again, Draco still referred to Harry as "Potter" in the company of everyone they knew.

"You two seem to be getting along much better," Harry gritted, wondering why Hermione hadn't just walked upstairs herself and grabbed the book. Draco's grey eyes widened and his brows rose.

"Why, Harry Potter, can you be jealous of Hermione Granger?" he asked in amusement.

"Certainly not," Harry snapped.

Draco grinned and walked forward. He reached up a hand to caress the edge of Harry's jaw and his thumb trailed across Harry's cheekbone. His eyes were argent flame. Harry felt his anger draining away and struggled to hold onto it, but he couldn't keep himself from reaching up and touching Malfoy's hand. He pressed Draco's palm against his face with a sigh.

"I need some air," he said abruptly and slipped out of Draco's grasp. He took the stairs again and went to the attic, which doubled as an owlery. Harry pet Hedwig and fed her an owl treat before giving the same to the tawny owl that belonged to Tonks.

Harry sensed Malfoy in the doorway before he spoke.

"We have to go back to Malfoy Manor," Draco said. Harry looked at him askance.

"We? As in you and me? Or you, me, and _Hermione_?"

"You brought Granger into this. I doubt you can stop her from intruding now. My father's notes cross-reference other material and I need to find his private journal."

"You don't need to do this, you know," Harry said. Draco made a sound of disgust.

"You've been obsessing over this for months and now that I'm trying to help, you want me to quit?"

Harry pulled at his hair. He was being irrational. There was nothing between Draco and Hermione. They despised each other and had only been alone for a couple of hours. And Hermione was _married_! What the hell was wrong with him?

"I just didn't think you would want Ron and Hermione in your house," he said lamely.

"I don't. Especially Weasley. But if we use Granger's clever little mind, we may be able to solve this problem faster. Even I am willing to admit that."

Harry nodded. He still felt out of sorts. "Where are Tonks and Remus?" he asked. Draco made a face.

"Out purchasing some sort of furnishing for the eventual arrival of the diminutive nursling. You know, once the squalling carpet rat is born, you can stay at my place when the sound level becomes intolerable. Which should be approximately sixteen minutes after they bring it inside."

"You hate kids?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. I just choose not to be in the same domicile with one."

"By 'your place' are you referring to the Pristine Palace?"

"What do you have against my flat?"

"I'm afraid to touch anything there; I'll either break it or mar the unspoiled whiteness."

"I give you leave to redecorate," Draco said dryly. "Toss out everything white, if you wish."

Harry laughed. "That would be the whole place, wouldn't it?"

"You're impossible, you know that?" Draco asked and Harry felt a weight lift off his chest. He grinned.

"I know."

ooOoo

Ron was a problem.

He seemed to regard a trip to Malfoy Manor as just barely preferable to a jaunt to the ninth circle of hell for a bit of sadistic torture. Harry suggested that Ron could return home while Hermione accompanied them to Draco's home alone, but Ron shook his head.

"This library of Malfoy's; lots of books?" he asked.

"Dozens," Harry said.

"How long do you think it would take Hermione to read them all?"

Harry began to see Ron's concern. "Months."

"Exactly. If I don't go along and persuade her to leave, she'll stay there until spring."

"I don't think Malfoy would let her stay that long."

"I don't want her getting too chummy with that Slytherin git, either. It's bad enough _you're_ friends with the bastard." Harry felt a bit uneasy to have his thoughts about Hermione and Draco mirrored. Ron glowered. "I wouldn't put it past him to try and seduce her just to put one over on me."

Harry blinked for a moment. Put that bluntly, it sounded ludicrous. "Come on, it's Hermione we're talking about."

Ron nodded, but did not seem reassured. "Yeah, but it's also _Malfoy_ we're talking about."

ooOoo

Draco decided to return to Malfoy Manor alone, against Harry's protests. What was worse, he planned to leave that evening.

"You can't go alone! And at night? It's too dangerous," Harry said and pushed away from the doorway of Malfoy's room. He watched Draco carefully pack his sunglasses into a protective pouch and fold the two shirts Harry had bought for him.

Draco gave him an incredulous look. "Potter, I ran this business for two years before you came along. I made the trip to Malfoy Manor and back hundreds of times. Day, night, pouring rain, snow, and mist thick as chowder. I think I will be fine."

Harry bit his lip, knowing Draco was right.

"Can't you at least wait until morning?"

"No, I want to get up early and get started. You know I've only got the one bedroom completed; if I'm to have guests they will need a place to sleep. Even Weasleys deserve the proper Malfoy hospitality. Bring them along when Granger is finished with her shopping or whatever they came to London for. In the meantime, I'll look for Father's journal."

Harry yanked furiously at his hair, knowing it was futile to argue once Malfoy had made up his mind, but still determined to try. Draco grinned.

"Don't cling, Potter. It's not becoming."

Harry's eyes flashed. "I'm not clinging," he snapped, knowing it was a lie and knowing Draco knew it was a lie. "Fine! Go then, damn you."

Malfoy sighed and picked up his wand to flick it toward the door, which slammed shut obediently. Draco walked to Harry and embraced him tightly before planting a sweet, teasing kiss on his lips. Harry twined his hands into Draco's silken hair and deepened the kiss, hoping to make Malfoy regret his decision. Draco groaned and reciprocated, but broke the kiss and stepped away a few moments later. He wagged a long finger at Harry.

"No you don't. I'm still going."

Harry sighed in frustration, knowing he was beaten.

"All right. I'll see you by the end of the week."

"Be careful," Harry said quietly. Draco grinned, _Accioed_ his pack, and departed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Harry hopped off his broom in front of Malfoy Manor and stared in amazement. The façade of the mansion was nearly complete. The colonnades were gleaming white and the curving marble steps led to the stately, finished portico.

It had only been five days since Draco had left London. How had he done it? _Why_ he had done it was more obvious, judging by the expressions on the faces of Ron and Hermione. They had never been to Draco's home, not even during the war, and it was a beautiful sight. Malfoy had even installed rose bushes and they bloomed in profusions of color along the front of the house.

"He lives here alone?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, although he had also wondered if the Malfoys had ever been a large family. The place would have been huge for only Draco and his parents and Harry had wondered what it would be like to grow up in such an excess of emptiness.

Harry knocked politely on the door, even though he could probably have simply walked in. They waited only a few moments before the portal was flung open to disclose Draco's handsome visage. Malfoy looked as cool and beautiful as a portrait and a smile curved his perfect lips when his eyes met Harry's. It wasn't until that moment that Harry realized just how difficult the past few days had been. He wanted to leap on Draco like a crazed animal and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

Draco's smile widened as if he sensed Harry's thoughts—which he probably did. Malfoy stood aside and gestured at the front hall expansively.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," he said smoothly.

Harry walked inside and was fairly stunned at the changes. The front hall was finished and gleamed with highly polished blonde wood. A sparkling multi-faceted chandelier hung over their heads and a patterned rug—Persian, most likely—muffled their footsteps. The walls were complete and now concealed both parlour and dining room.  
"I'm sure Granger would love to see the library first hand," Draco said.

"_Weasley_," Ron corrected, but Malfoy ignored him as he walked down the hall. The parlour door was shut, as was the door to the drawing room where Harry had bound Draco to a pillar. Harry assumed neither room was finished and hoped Malfoy had at least gotten a bit of rest in the past few days.

The library had been nearly completed before they had left for London and now it looked much as it must have in the heyday of Malfoy residence. Books now lined the mahogany shelves and the room was furnished with desks, chairs, and sofas. Crystal oil lamps rested on the tables along with expensive vases filled with fresh flowers.

Hermione fairly gasped with pleasure when she viewed the leather-bound volumes.

"I moved most of my father's collection up here," Draco said. "Make yourselves comfortable, Weasleys. I'll get us some tea." His voice was gracious enough, but for a slight stressing of the name.

"I'll help you," Harry offered casually, trying to control his excitement over the idea of having a moment alone with Draco. He accompanied Malfoy out and grinned at him in amazement as they strolled down the long hallway. "How did you do this? It's incredible."

Draco smiled wanly. "I don't think I slept much." Harry's gaze sharpened and he could sense more than see a bone-deep weariness surrounding his friend. Harry scowled.

"Did you _really_ need to half kill yourself just to impress Ron and Hermione?"

Draco merely chuckled. By then they had reached the kitchen and the moment they were inside the confines of the room, Draco turned and locked his lips onto Harry's. They devoured each other in a frenzy of denied passion. Harry lost himself in the taste and feel of Draco—it seemed like they had been apart for weeks. Harry could not have broken the kiss if his life depended on it, but Draco's lips finally left his to slide wetly across his cheek and then Malfoy buried his face in Harry's neck before planting soft kisses there.

"Missed you," Draco murmured, holding Harry like a lifeline. Harry groaned in agreement and raked his hands through Malfoy's so-soft hair.

Draco released Harry and stepped back with a tired grin.

"I'd better get your silly friends some tea before they come looking for us."

"I'll do it. You sit down," Harry said. "You look exhausted." Of course, that was a lie; Malfoy looked as cool and alert as ever, but for a slight dark hollowness under his silver eyes. He gave evidence of his weariness by sinking into a chair without protest. Harry prepared the tea. When he finished, he brushed a hand under the hair that draped over Malfoy's forehead.

"Look, why don't you go to bed? I'll take care of the Weasleys and bring you some dinner," Harry suggested.

"Don't bother. I'm too bloody tired to wake up once I hit the sheets." Draco got to his feet and chuckled as Harry picked up the tray.

"What?" Harry asked curiously.

"If _you're_ making dinner, the Weasleys might not live through the night."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry growled, but he grinned when he said it. Draco pressed a kiss against Harry's temple.

"Goodnight, Potter. The Weasels' room is down the hall and around the corner from mine. I'm certain you'll find it."

With that, Draco went out and Harry returned to the library. Hermione was already surrounded by open books. Ron sat at a small table in front of a game of wizard's chess.

"Where is Mr. Perfect?" Ron asked when Harry set the tray down.

"He went to bed. He's very tired."

"Good."

Harry and Hermione went over several books and began grouping them by order of usefulness. Ron helped for awhile and then went to play a solitary game of wizard's chess at a corner table.

They retreated to the kitchen eventually and ate sandwiches (despite Malfoy's warning, there was little danger of poisoning) before Harry led them upstairs. The bedroom Draco had put them in was nearly as large as the entire ground floor of Ron and Hermiones' house. It had been gorgeously restored with rich cherry wood, opulent cream-colored fabric, and gleaming accessories.

Harry smiled ruefully at their awed expressions, knowing it was exactly the reaction Malfoy had intended.

He bid them good night and went back down the hall. Malfoy had prepared a small room for Harry, most likely for show. He had to have known Harry had no intention of sleeping there. He entered Draco's room.

Malfoy was sound asleep on the huge bed. Harry watched the rise and fall of his chest while he stripped off his clothes. Malfoy's hair was spread across the pillow in a pale fan. Harry slid into bed and nestled his face in it as he snuggled close to Draco. He heard the Slytherin sigh softly and a hand gripped Harry's arm and tugged him closer.

Harry smiled in contentment and drifted off to sleep.

ooOoo

Harry woke to the novel experience of finding Draco still asleep. Granted, the faint rays of dawn were barely creeping through the gaps in the thick curtains, but normally Malfoy was up and busy before Harry even thought of crawling from his covers.

Even more surprising, Draco did not move as Harry pushed away and got out of bed. The Slytherin really was tired. As much as Harry would have liked to wake him up with some judicious fondling and strategic licking, he knew Malfoy needed to rest, so he threw some clothes on and traipsed barefoot down to the gigantic kitchen to prepare some breakfast, grinning at the horrified expression he knew would appear on Draco's face when he looked at Harry's attempt at meal preparation.

He took a tray upstairs and set it next to the bed for when Draco awoke, and then took another to the library. Hermione was already awake and taking notes. She smiled at Harry and accepted a cup of tea.

"I thought I'd get an early start before everyone gets up. I'm charting a system—we need to sort everything before we can try to decipher any of it, I think."

Harry helped her and by the time Draco appeared, looking refreshed and alert once more, they had several stacks of varied materials.

"Thanks for breakfast, Potter. I'm managing to keep it down, so far," Draco said.

Harry tossed a crumpled paper missile at him and Malfoy sidestepped it easily and walked forward.

"All right, Granger, I assume you have several charts and graphs already prepared. Let's see them."

Hermione flushed, but picked up a sheaf of papers and handed them to Malfoy, who scanned them with a single raised eyebrow.

"Pedantic and predictable," Draco commented, "But I suppose it will do, for a start."

Hermione snatched them back angrily. "I suppose you could do better?"

"Of course," Draco said airily and proceeded to explain how, which eventually led to a yelling match and Harry sank into a chair to massage aching temples. The argument was nearing the name calling stage when Harry finally stood up.

"Enough!" he yelled. "We're never going to get anywhere with this if you two insist on acting like children!"

Draco glared at him, but Hermione flushed.

"You were getting on well enough in London! What happened?" Harry demanded. Not that he really wanted a repeat of that sort of "getting along."

Draco sighed. "You're right, Potter. It's difficult for me to admit that we need Granger's help. I suppose I let my annoyance get out of hand."

Hermione blinked at Malfoy.

"You're admitting you need my help?" she asked in surprise. Draco's jaw set and she quickly raised a hand. "No, never mind! I don't need you to repeat it. It's just shocking, is all. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Great," Harry snapped. "Now, Malfoy, can you stop nitpicking Hermione's system and just work with it? Let's all pretend to be friends, shall we?"

"Pretend to be friends?" Draco repeated.

"_I_ can do it," Hermione said adamantly. "But I doubt Malfoy can manage it."

Draco's eyes flashed silver. "Is that a challenge, Granger?"

"You bet it is," she snapped.

Harry felt a sudden rush of trepidation and wished he had just kept his mouth shut, for once.

ooOoo

Malfoy seemed so captivated by the pretense that he was even sickeningly nice to Ron, who merely viewed the change of heart with increasing suspicion. Draco _Accioed_ books for Hermione, complimented her on her hair, prepared her tea just the way she liked it, and followed her systems without further complaint. The whole thing irritated Harry to the point of distraction. By the end of the day, he was practically gnashing his teeth.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he snapped to Malfoy that night in Draco's room while he took his shoes off and flung them aside. Draco turned amused silver eyes on him.

"It was your idea," Draco said innocently.

"I said pretend to be friends, not act like bloody Don Juan!"

"Who?"

Harry groaned. Muggle references were completely lost on Malfoy and any explanation would have caused Draco's eyes to glaze over in boredom.

"Never mind," Harry said and sighed.

"Good. Come over here for a moment."

Draco was seated on the edge of the bed and he had already removed his shirt and boots. Harry obligingly got up and stood before him, knowing the opportunity for argument had passed. Malfoy pulled Harry down onto the bed. An instant later, Harry's shirt was torn open.

"I suppose I should have taken that off," Harry commented dryly.

"You like it better when I do it," Draco murmured and kissed him. Harry would have agreed if he could have spoken. Draco broke the kiss and went on, "You know all the manual labor I've been doing… it really frees up the mind for thinking."

"Really?" Harry asked breathlessly. Malfoy hands were already busy removing the rest of Harry's clothing.

"Yes. I've spent the past few days thinking of all the things I would do to you when you got here."

Harry couldn't breathe for a moment. Draco laughed throatily.

"Such as?"

Draco whispered in Harry's ear.

"Oh dear God," Harry said.

"Praying won't help you, Potter," Draco replied and laughed.

A short time later, Harry knew praying definitely wouldn't help because he was surely going to hell, but oh was it ever worth it…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Draco enjoyed the "pretending to be friends" charade immensely. Far more than Harry had ever intended. Granger's reserve took about three days to crumble like a house of cards. Between the compliments and the never-ending kindness, her trusting Gryffindor nature could not maintain her suspicion. Draco knew he had won the day when she placed a hand on his arm to draw his attention to a key bit of information.

Draco glanced at the hand in amusement and then at Harry, who glared daggers at him. Malfoy grinned. In truth, he was having an excellent time toying with Granger. She really wasn't that bad once she relaxed a bit. And she wasn't bad-looking, either. She still had more hair than a normal woman needed, but she generally kept it pulled back in an attractive clip. Hermione also had an excellent sense of humor, as Draco had discovered back in London the day they had gone upstairs in search of a book. Draco had pointed out one of the runic shapes and made an off-color joke hoping to disturb her, but to his surprise she had burst out laughing and added one of her own… right before Harry had walked in.

While Draco did not _encourage_ Granger's growing friendliness toward him, he did nothing to deflect it, either, which brought the expected reaction from both Ron and Harry. Ron became excruciatingly possessive and forced himself to stay in the library and "help" them even though it was clear the enforced confinement made him want to claw the walls in frustration. Weasley sat close to Hermione at all times and threw evil glares at her whenever she made a friendly comment to Draco.

The suffocation factor was obviously getting to Granger and Malfoy noticed a growing tension between the Weasley couple. Draco supposed he should feel guilty and knew Harry expected him to be mortified at the idea of driving a wedge between Ron and Hermione, but Malfoy felt nothing of the sort.

Frankly, Weasley did not deserve someone of Granger's caliber and if he was too stupid to figure out how to hold onto her, then it certainly wasn't Draco's problem. Of course, trying to explain that to Harry was out of the question. Potter was furious. In fact, he was pacing next to the bed at the moment with both hands pulling agitatedly at his hair.

"I know what you're doing," Harry snapped. "I just don't understand _why_ you're doing it."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked casually from his post near the open double doors that led to the balcony, pretending innocence, which he was quite good at. Of course, it never fooled Harry for a moment.

"Hermione is beginning to like you. And not in a casual friendship sort of way, either. What's worse—we all know it, including Ron."

"I'm simply being nice to her, as you commanded," Draco said dryly.

"Granted. You denied your Slytherin nature and now we have all been duly punished. Please go back to hating her."

"I can't. I rather like Granger now," Draco admitted and managed not to grin at the way Harry's jaw tightened. "She's been bloody useful with this little project of yours—we nearly have a workable solution."

That was completely true, even the liking part. She still annoyed him, but she had been astonishingly valuable with research. Harry had plenty of energy and was excellent at mowing through piles of material to pick out the useful bits, but Harry still expected to find a direct answer; to pull a piece of parchment from the stack labeled "Remedy." Potter's method was to drive headlong into an issue and pummel it into submission, which was an excellent quality when fighting a tangible foe. This problem, however, had to be approached from every angle.

Granger might have been a Gryffindor, but she had the mind of a Ravenclaw. She had come up with ideas that Draco would never have considered.

"I don't care," Harry said adamantly. "I think they should leave."

Draco laughed in delight. Harry was such a typical Gryffindor—always heading straight for the sacrifice. Potter would rather shun the companionship of his friends than suffer them to be emotionally wounded by a wicked Slytherin. Malfoy knew Granger well enough that she would not run along meekly, even for her own welfare. "Good luck convincing Granger of that."

"This is not a game, Draco!" Harry snapped.

"Are you really trying to protect your friends or are you just giving in to this silly jealousy of yours?"

Harry flushed but forged on gamely. "I'm trying to protect Ron and Hermione, of course. I know you are only trifling with them, but _they_ do not know that. At least, Hermione doesn't. You have to stop manipulating her."

The word stung. Draco hated to be called manipulative. Even when it was true. He scowled. "I am not manipulating anyone, Potter."

Harry yanked at his hair again and Draco feared Potter might actually pull out a fistful if he weren't careful.

"The hell you're not! Everything you've done since we got here has been a study in machination! You fixed up the Manor to overwhelm them; you put them in a room fit for a Sultan; you create gourmet meals guaranteed to drive them into culinary orgasm; and now this excess of kindness—you helped Ron put on his cape yesterday, for Merlin's sake! You're carrying this too far. I only wanted an end to the blatant hostility—not for you to take the antagonism to an entirely new level."

"That's hardly fair!" Draco snapped. "I merely wanted to make the Manor presentable. The room they are in is nothing special and I always cook like a bloody gourmet, which you will acknowledge if you stop seeing treachery in my every action. If Granger reads too much into my simple civility—at _your_ request, I might add—then perhaps she is not as in love with Weasley as she ought to be." He raised a hand to halt Harry's outburst and continued, "And if Weasley does not know the proper way to keep a woman, I'm sure as hell not going to enlighten him, nor feel bloody sorry for him!"

Harry sank down onto the bed with a huge sigh.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked and for the first time Draco felt a twinge of guilt. It amused him to torment Granger and Weasley, but he never meant to hurt Harry. Potter would never accept Draco's real motivation. If Malfoy were perfectly honest, he would admit that he had a deep-seated need to sever the ties of eternal friendship that bound the three Gryffindors. While Draco scoffed at Harry's jealousy, he would never admit the depth of his own envy at the easy friendship the three maintained. It had survived years of growing up, several pitched battles with horrific creatures and evil minions, and the deaths of many people close to them. Even now, the unspoken communication between the Gryffindors annoyed the hell out of Draco. He had seen Hermione gesture wordlessly and watched Harry pick up an item she sought without even thinking. Harry and Ron occasionally finished each others' sentences. Draco knew that he would never have that same bond with Potter, no matter how long they were together.

So, yes, Draco was guilty of trying to extract a bit of petty revenge from the Weasels. And if Hermione was the simplest path to achieve that end, then so be it.

Harry stared at him with those earnest green eyes again and Malfoy sighed heavily. Damn Potter, anyway. No one else on the bloody planet could make him feel so repentant so easily. Draco walked over and dropped to his knees before Harry and took both Potter's hands in his own.

"What is really bothering you about this?" Draco asked. "You know I love to torment your little friends—a fact of which they should be well aware. They can't trust me, as I'm certain you've warned them."

Harry's solemn green eyes were still locked on Draco's.

"Well, Hermione does trust you, regardless of my warnings. What will you do when she falls in love with you?" Not if, but _when_. Draco curled his lip in a patented sneer and added a scoffing noise.

"Granger is too smart to let that happen."

"Damn it, Malfoy, love has nothing to do with intelligence!" Harry burst out. "You can't turn it on and off like a _Lumos_ spell! We don't always get to choose who we fall in love with."

Draco was stymied. He had only been in love once in his entire life and while he hadn't exactly made a conscious decision to fall in love with Harry Potter, he had at least accepted the fact in a somewhat clinical fashion. Draco sat back on his heels and thought about Harry's words for a moment. _We don't always get to choose_. What would have happened if Draco had rejected the idea? Would he be any less in love with Harry? Hell, probably not. In fact, it would most likely be sheer torture, to see him and be near him, but never touch him… Malfoy let out a breath. Emotional depth was something Gryffindors seemed to take for granted, not realizing that some people had to work at it.

"You're saying if Granger did fall in love with me that she would be completely miserable?" Draco asked. He tried to see a downside to the situation, other than the dismay it obviously provoked in Potter. So Hermione would be unhappy for awhile. At least she would be free of Weasley. She would probably thank Draco later.

"Unless you loved her back," Harry said quietly and it suddenly dropped into place like a missing potion ingredient. Draco laughed softly. The Savior of the Wizarding World could be so bloody insecure at times. Harry actually believed Draco might fall in love with Hermione Granger? Malfoy admired her intelligence but he sure as hell did not want to fall into bed with her—no matter how satisfying it would be to provoke Ron Weasley to that level of rage.

"Potter, you do amuse me," Draco said with a chuckle and pushed himself forward to press a kiss on Harry's sweet lips. Harry scowled.

"I'm not trying to be amusing—I'm serious," Harry said around Draco's kisses, which wasn't easy because Malfoy was starting to warm to the action.

"Point taken, Harry. No more Granger-baiting. Just for you."

ooOoo

Harry's conversation with Malfoy left him less than satisfied. In typical Slytherin fashion, Draco simply seemed unable to grasp the fact that twisting the emotions of others was _wrong_. Or perhaps he simply wanted Hermione to fall in love with him, regardless of the consequences.

He sighed and gave in to Draco's sensual kisses, hoping Ron and Hermione had a nice, prolonged walk outside. They had all needed a break from the library and Ron had dragged Hermione outside while Harry had escorted Draco upstairs in high dudgeon.

Malfoy had not quite reached the point of extracting the buttons from Harry's shirt when he raised his head with a dissatisfied groan.

"The bloody Weasels are back."

Harry was surprised. "Already? How do you know?"

"I attuned the doors. In a house this size, it pays to know when someone breaches an entrance, particularly when you can't always hear a knock."

Malfoy levered himself off of Harry and went back to his balcony vantage. Harry partially sat up and braced a hand on the bed.

"You know, there _is_ another reason I wouldn't mind them leaving," Harry admitted, earning a seductive grin from Draco.

"Shameless tart," Malfoy said. Harry chuckled and hoisted himself out of Draco's bed. He left the bedroom and went downstairs to find Ron and Hermione in a prime fighting stance at the foot of the stairs. Hermione's fists were clenched and her cheeks were red. Ron was shouting at her.

"What'd you run back in here for? Hoping he'll protect you?"

"You're being ridiculous, Ronald, and I'm not going to argue with you about this any longer, inside or outside!"

Harry made the typical throat-clearing noise reserved for such circumstances and both angry stares snapped up to view him on the staircase. He continued down until he stood on the second to last step.

"I thought you two had largely given up on public shouting matches," Harry commented.

"We save them for rare occasions," Ron snapped. "Such as when Hermione insists on making calf-eyes at Draco fucking Malfoy."

Hermione's glare was livid.

"If you mention that one more time, Ronald, I'll hex you with a silence spell that will leave you mute for a year!"

Ron threw up his hands. "I can't bloody stay here. If you insist on proceeding with this nonsense, you can stay here and…" Hermione raised her wand and Ron visibly switched the direction of his conversation. "…whatever. I'm going home."

Hermione looked as surprised as Harry felt.

"You can't! We need you," she said quickly.

Ron snorted. "You don't bloody need me. Hell, even Harry seems like a third wheel on a cart when you and Malfoy get going. What the hell do you need us for?"

Harry scowled, but had to admit that Ron was right. Lately, Hermione and Draco had been speaking in such a convoluted fashion—discussing runes, ritual magic, and spell theory—that Harry found himself drifting off into a sleepy daze much of the time. It was easy to see why both he and Ron were feeling apprehensive.

"We're nearly ready to test a spell," Hermione said. Harry noticed her eyes shift to a point beyond him and knew Draco was gliding silently down the steps. It was confirmed by the snapping rage in Ron's glare.

"She's right," Malfoy said. "It will take the four of us to control it."

"Where will we test it?" Harry asked, wondering why Draco had not mentioned it upstairs. Then again, Harry had not given him much opportunity. Malfoy's silver eyes fixed on Harry.

"I think we should try that spot outside of London where we…" Draco trailed off in uncomfortable silence and Harry marveled to see the platinum Adonis struggle for words. Draco continued, "The place where the leaves turned purple. There is a small null-flying zone there, remember?"

_The place where the leaves turned purple._ Harry's eyes lost their focus for a moment and he felt like he was drowning in Draco's silver regard. The mere hint of a smile touched Malfoy's lips. Harry remembered the small grove and the purple leaves raining down on them, fluttering from the trees in the brisk wind and catching in Draco's hair… He grinned at the memory.

"When do we leave?" Ron gritted, breaking the spell.

"Tomorrow morning," Draco said.

"Good." Ron stalked back out the front doors. Hermione threw them an apologetic look and hurried after her husband. Harry looked at Draco accusingly.

"I blame you for that."

"Do you want me to say I'm sorry?" Draco asked mildly.

"Only if you mean it."

"Damn. I knew there was a catch."

Harry sighed. The Slytherin was hopeless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The flight back to the outskirts of London was a bit strained. Ron and Hermione were barely speaking and she had even refused to ride with the angry Weasley. Instead, she climbed onto the back of Harry's broom without a word. Ron had ignored Harry's apologetic look and snapped into the air.

Malfoy had refrained from outwardly smirking, although Harry could see the satisfied glint in his eyes. Draco had also made an effort not to be quite so friendly to Hermione. He had still given her a pleasant smile, but had stopped telling her how fetching she looked, thank goodness.

It took some searching before they found the proper location. For one thing, the purple leaves were beginning to turn a pinkish color in the early September air and it had been awhile since Harry and Draco had visited the place. In addition, they had only been there the one time, staying only long enough for a romantic interlude.

Harry and Draco were both quiet when they dismounted from their brooms. They gave each other amused glances. Harry flushed at the memory and Malfoy chuckled wickedly, drawing Hermione's puzzled gaze.

They decided to split up in order to find the null-flying zone, which seemed to have shifted its location from where they expected to find it. Hermione stayed with Harry as they walked through the grove and onto a small meadow bedecked with bright clover. He thought she might be in the mood to talk, but she remained pensive and quiet. Harry kept walking, floating his broom in the air and watching to see if it would drop at the advent of a nullifying field.

Hermione finally spoke up. "I forgot to give you these."

Harry paused and looked at her curiously as she held out her hand. He reached out and blinked in surprise when she dropped several matching buttons into his hand. For a moment, his mind spun guiltily.

"I found them in Malfoy's drawing room. I would have given them to him directly, but _someone_ would probably accuse me of lascivious behavior," she said and her voice rose toward the end.

Harry swallowed and pocketed the incriminating fasteners.

"_You_ don't think I'm in love with Malfoy, do you, Harry?" she asked. Harry tried to force out a denial, but the words stuck in his throat. How could she not be in love with Malfoy? As Vincent Crabbe had once told him: _Everyone loves Draco once they get past the walls_.

He was about to blurt out to Hermione that _he_ loved Draco, but his promise to the blonde Slytherin came back to haunt him. He couldn't say anything without Malfoy's leave.

"The important thing is what _you_ think, Hermione," he said finally.

"Well, I certainly don't think I'm in love with Malfoy," she muttered. "I mean, it's been nice having him act like a human being recently, and he is unbelievably good looking—God, do not tell Ron I said that—!"

She broke off when Harry's broom dropped to the ground.

"We found it!" she cried.

Harry stepped back and cast a quick _Patronus_ to call Draco and Ron. While they waited, Hermione looked at him seriously.

"I'm _not_ in love with Malfoy," she said adamantly. Harry wondered if she were trying to convince him, or herself.

Draco found them first, streaking out of the clear sky like a silver shot. He slammed to a halt just shy of the null zone and hopped lightly off his broom with a devastating smile. His platinum hair was wind-tousled and he shook it out of his grey eyes with a casual toss of his head.

Harry felt his heart do a slow roll and he noticed Hermione fairly gaping at Malfoy. He scowled. Not in love with him? Ron flew up then and dismounted. Hermione watched him coldly, but at least she no longer ogled Harry's Slytherin.

"All right," Draco said. "Let's follow this thing and see how large it is. We will want to cast the spell in the very center of the field."

The nullification field turned out to be relatively small—only a few acres across, which was perfect for their purposes. They regrouped and spread out the materials they had brought, which mainly consisted of healing herbs: rosemary, ginseng, ginger, peony, and salvia. They had brought an assortment of candles, incense, and a set of etched runic charms.

They stood in the approximate center of the field and Harry and Ron watched while Draco and Hermione cast a rudimentary purification circle and edged it with a sprinkling of herbs. When that was finished, they muttered several spells and tapped the runic cubes before placing them strategically within the circle.

"Let's join hands," Hermione suggested. She took Ron's hand and then Harry's while giving Ron a defiant look. Harry took Draco's hand and grinned when Ron and Malfoy slapped their remaining hands together and then clenched them tightly in a silent battle of strength. "Feel free to stop acting like children so we may continue," Hermione went on with an annoyed timbre to her voice.

The two rivals relaxed slightly and Hermione began to chant. Harry waited until the proper moment and then picked it up, adding his voice in a counterpoint. Draco joined in next, adding yet another layer. Finally, Ron chanted in a fourth cadence. The words of the spell quickly charged the air and Harry felt a growing energy begin to crackle within their small circle. They continued the chant, building the power until Harry felt the hair begin to stand up on the back of his neck. The pressure became almost painful.

They all stopped speaking at once and Hermione breathed, "Now!" The four of them pulled out their wands and held the points together while yelling the triggering words of the spell.

Energy blasted into the air and Harry felt it surge through him and beyond. They stood breathlessly for a moment, waiting. Time ticked on and the late summer landscape did not change. Harry let out a breath.

Draco summoned his broom and let it go. It fell to the ground. He made a sound of frustration.

"Maybe it takes time," Hermione suggested. Malfoy sighed explosively.

"Then we wait," he said.

"How long?" Harry asked.

"Until morning? And then we try something else."

"Shall we go back to London?"

Draco shook his head. "I won't. I want to stay here in case it has a delayed effect."

"I'll stay too, then," Harry decided.

"Me, too," Hermione added with a glance at Ron, who shrugged.

"Whatever," Ron said.

ooOoo

Hermione gave up staring into the fire across from silent Ron and went to find Harry. She knew if she tried talking to her husband again they would end up in a screaming match. Ronald had a tendency to brood and sulk for a few days after every argument before apologizing and making up. It could be annoying, but she was used to it. If she could just hold onto her patience that long.

She expected to find Harry and Draco at the site of the spell, but they were nowhere to be found. She waited for a short time to see if there were any visible effect on the nullification field, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. She cast a flying spell at a nearby stick and sent it across the field, but it dropped a few feet away.

Hermione scowled and wondered what had gone wrong with the spell. She reviewed everything they had done, step by step. Maybe a variation of the third chant would help—instead of a purification spell, maybe they should use a healing charm. She needed to talk to Draco and see if he had any ideas.

Hermione walked back into the grove of trees with their oddly colored leaves. The sun was going down and it would be getting cool soon. Malfoy had set up the tent and prepared them a quick dinner before ducking into the trees with the excuse of checking on the spell. Harry had bolted shortly thereafter, probably to give Hermione and Ron time alone, not realizing it was a bad idea at this juncture.

She paused for a moment, wondering where they could have gone. She listened intently and finally heard the low hum of voices. Hermione saw a small path leading through a cluster of trees and pushed her way through until she spotted a clover-filled clearing similar to the one she and Harry had traversed earlier. She halted suddenly when she spied Draco and Harry lying on the clover. For a moment, she thought they were hurt and nearly rushed forward, but then she heard Harry's amused voice, though she could not make out his words.

Draco lay flat upon his back on his spread-out cloak, partially turned away from her vantage. Harry's head rested on Malfoy's stomach as though it were a pillow. A long stem of oat grass twirled idly in his right hand and his left gestured upward. Hermione could scarcely process the odd scene—she could not remember Harry ever being so casually close to anyone before—not even Ron or herself. It was even more peculiar to see Malfoy allowing such contact.

She nearly stepped out and spoke, but then Draco's hand reached up and caught Harry's. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as their fingers slowly interlocked and everything suddenly slammed into place. How could she have been so stupid? As she watched, Malfoy's other hand idly fluffed Harry's disheveled locks with a tender caress.

She backed away quickly, trying to be silent; on the verge of panic. It all made sense—the searching looks, the quickly silenced words, the shared glances of amusement, the… _buttons_. Oh God, the buttons everywhere because they… they… She nearly laughed hysterically at the way Harry had looked at her when she tried to deny falling in love with Malfoy. He must have thought her completely clueless.

Hermione stumbled out of the grove and back to the fire where Ron had just finished tossing another lump of wood into the coals. A red spray of cinders shot up, illuminating Ron's face when he looked at her in sudden concern. He sprang forward and grabbed her arms.

"Hermione! What's wrong?" he demanded. She did laugh then, a trifle madly.

"You were worried about _me_ falling for Malfoy," she said with a giggle. Ron's grip tightened on her arm.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"It's Harry. He's in love with Harry. And vice-versa," she said. Strangely, the words served to calm her instead of adding to her hysteria. Aloud, it did not sound nearly so odd. The feeling of unreality was beginning to subside.

"_What_?"

Hermione sighed and wished she had not blurted it out to Ron.

"Draco and Harry are in love. With each other," she said bluntly.

"It can't be," Ron denied hoarsely.

"It is. I feel like an idiot for not having noticed sooner."

"But… but…" Ron's hands dropped away from her arms and his eyes went far away. Hermione nodded, assuming Ron was replaying the past few days in his mind. To her amazement, his fists clenched suddenly. "That _bastard_!" he snarled through his teeth. "_I'll kill him_."

Hermione reached out and grabbed a handful of Ron's shirt. "Kill who?" she asked in alarm, although she already knew the answer.

"Malfoy, of course. He had to have cast some sort of spell on Harry—some _Imperius_ or something!"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so, Ron. I think it just… happened."

"How do you know?" he snapped with an icy glare.

_Because it nearly happened to me_, she wanted to answer, but couldn't. Ron saw it in her eyes anyway.

"If that son of a bitch thinks he can take everyone important to me, he's got another bloody thing coming," Ron said with conviction and tore his shirt out of her grasp. He stalked to his broom and Hermione hurried after him.

"Wait, Ron! Just wait!"

But he mounted his broom and sped off in the direction of London, leaving Hermione staring after him with a deep sense of foreboding.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Harry walked into the encampment to find Hermione pacing next to the fire. She looked at him with a stricken expression.

"What is it?" he asked instantly. "Where's Ron?"

Harry assumed the two of them had had another row and Ron had stormed off.

"I know about you and Malfoy," Hermione said bluntly.

Harry froze and for a moment he couldn't think of a single thing to say. This definitely was not how he had pictured letting his friends in on his big secret. Luckily, Hermione continued, thanks to her habit of babbling when she was nervous.

"I should have noticed it sooner, though I can't _believe_ you didn't just tell me."

"I promised I wouldn't," Harry said lamely, feeling like they were back in school and Harry had forgotten to take notes in Transfiguration.

"So, you're a… a couple then?"

"I suppose, yes. We're always together now."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," he said simply.

She shook her head as if bemused. "I never would have suspected Malfoy of being gay."

Harry stared at her in genuine surprise and then laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call him that. I know he likes girls, too. Hell, Malfoy is more like… I don't know. Omni-sexual. I think he could make love to a troll or a mermaid and it would be perfectly fine with the universe. It would probably be damned sexy, actually."

"And you?"

Harry shook his head and grinned. "I really haven't spent a lot of time analyzing it. I'm certainly not attracted to other guys and I never have been. Hell, I made love to Ginny plenty of times—God, do _not_ tell Ron I said that. I just… can't seem to resist Draco. There's something about him…"

"Yeah." She sighed explosively. "I know."

"You felt it, too?" Harry felt a quick spike of jealousy and suppressed it.

"I wish I hadn't. He's just so… bloody charming when he puts his mind to it."

"And gorgeous," Harry added.

"Beyond gorgeous." She dragged a hand through her hair and groaned. "Damn, how could you not fall for him? Ron is angry at me with good reason. I've practically been fawning over Malfoy."

"Not fawning. But I think Draco was being extra charismatic with you just to annoy Ron." At least, Harry hoped to hell that was the reason.

"Does he love you?" she asked worriedly.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. He's not exactly the type to discuss his feelings."

"Harry, I… I told Ron. I suppose I shouldn't have, but I was just so shocked—"

"Where is Ron?" Harry asked sharply.

"He went pretty crazy—he yelled something about killing Malfoy and then he took off. It looked like he was heading for London. I couldn't stop him."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Heading for London. Thank God. Ron would cool off, eventually, and there was no danger between here and there. Harry raked a hand through his hair.

Draco returned, striding out of the trees with his usual casual grace. He grinned at Harry and then stopped short. His grey eyes narrowed and he looked from Harry to Hermione and back.

"Hermione knows," Harry admitted.

"Knows what?"

"She knows about us."

Draco raised a blonde brow at Hermione, who nodded.

"Well, it's about time you figured it out. I was beginning to think your vaunted intelligence was a Gryffindor fable," Malfoy said as he walked forward and slung an arm over Harry's shoulders possessively. Harry flushed, but that did not stop his heart from beating erratically.

"Time for bed," Draco suggested pleasantly. "'Night, Granger."

He ushered Harry into the tent without a backward glance and practically dragged Harry into their room.

"That was rude," Harry protested.

"I said good night in a perfectly pleasant manner. What was rude about it?" Draco asked and kicked the door shut behind them.

Harry could not answer because Draco's tongue choked off all sound the instant Malfoy clamped his mouth over Harry's. Potter grabbed Draco's hands before they could tear his shirt open.

"Why don't you try unbuttoning it this time?" he asked when the steaming kiss ended.

"Novel idea," Draco murmured and kissed his way down Harry's neck to the first button. His fingers undid one button and his mouth followed the hands to the next one. Malfoy managed four buttons in that fashion before wrenching at the material and sending the remainder flying. "Taking too long," he muttered.

He picked Harry up and carried him to the bed where he dumped him before yanking his own clothes off. Harry watched in amusement.

"You're awfully aggressive tonight," he commented.

"Just turned on from snogging you in the clover," Draco replied.

"Mmmm, that was nice."

"Not as nice as this will be," Malfoy promised and removed Harry's glasses before divesting him of the remainder of his clothing as well. Draco climbed back over Harry and kissed him again—teasing butterfly-gentle kisses that slowly warmed Harry's blood to the point of simmering boil over. Harry groaned after a few minutes—damned Malfoy knew he could nearly make Harry climax with kisses alone, he was so bloody good at it.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and quickly rolled him over so Malfoy was on the bottom. Harry laughed and pinned Draco's arms to the bed. Then he used his wand to make the pinning more secure.

"Tease. Let's see how you like it."

Draco tugged at his arms, but they were held fast to the bed.

"This is hardly fair, Potter."

Harry laughed. "You know you can _Accio_ your wand and free yourself at any time. I just don't think you will want to… yet."

Harry kissed a leisurely path down Draco's body and made certain to lick and fondle his thighs, abdomen, and flanks—touching everything but the place Malfoy most wanted touched until the pale body was writhing in frustration.

"All right, damn you! I get your point! Teasing is evil, now if you don't mind—" A gasp ripped through Draco's chest as Harry enveloped him completely with a giddy sense of triumph. Malfoy's body arched convulsively and Harry stopped playing to concentrate on Draco's pleasure with Gryffindor single-mindedness.

Draco's animal sounds of pleasure made Harry feel almost faint with a rush of desire. He heard Malfoy murmur his name with each stroke and that was even better. Draco climaxed and actually cried out before he managed to stifle it, surprising Harry. Normally Malfoy had better control than that.

Harry swallowed and gently released the Slytherin before he licked his way back up the flat stomach. He smiled with such triumph that Draco groaned.

"I don't think I can move," Malfoy commented as Harry released his hands with a flick of his wand before tossing it toward the edge of the bed. Harry laid his head on Draco's chest and sighed happily when Malfoy's arms surrounded him.

"That's okay, I'm feeling pretty satisfied at the moment."

"I'll bet you are," Draco said dryly and Harry chuckled in wicked delight.

ooOoo

Ron stormed into the shop in a fine rage, slamming past a female underling that was preparing to lock the doors for the evening.

"Where are my brothers?" he demanded. The girl blinked at him and stammered, obviously frightened, not merely because Ron towered over her, but because he probably looked half-demented.

"In the back, sir," she finally managed even though Ron was already halfway across the room by then. Fred and George were engaged in their favorite hobby—counting their proceeds. Both of his multicolored brothers looked up at him in surprise. He noted that they looked worse than ever now that their normal coloring was returning. It appeared that the colored patches were molting like an atrocious alien sunburn.

"We're closed," Fred said automatically. Ron was in no mood for his brothers' games.

"I want something that will kill Draco Malfoy," he said without preamble. George made a scoffing noise.

"You've been asking for that for years, mate. Get over it."

"I can't get over it!" Ron thundered angrily. The twins both looked at him in astonishment. "Not this time!"

"What's he done now?" George asked with a sigh.

"Honestly. We should start a product line just for Malfoy," Fred added.

Ron was prepared. It had taken him nearly an hour to return to Diagon Alley, taking care not to draw Muggle or Ministry attention. He had been bloody rocked to his roots to discover that Harry—for Merlin's sake, _Harry Potter_, his own fucking _best friend_—was in love with that swaggering megalomaniac prick! That news on top of the fact that Hermione had been goggling over the blonde bastard all week had simply been too much. She denied it, but Ron had known her since she was twelve years old—he knew all the signs. The nervous tucking of her hair behind her ear, the way she flicked the edge of her quill against her lips, and that breathy giggle… Ron had watched her use them all on Malfoy in the past few days.

Bloody hell, it wasn't like their marriage was in trouble! Maybe it had gotten a bit boring lately, with Hermione spending all her time in the damned lab creating potions for her mail-order business and Ron constantly practicing Quidditch. He hoped to hear back from the Chudley Cannons soon on his application and _maybe_ he was getting a bit testy about his inability to play professionally…

Ron shook his head and sighed. Well, he hadn't _thought_ their marriage was in trouble before Malfoy. And now Harry. How had the bastard done it? Harry was straight, for fuck's sake! He'd been engaged to Ron's sister! They had snogged like love-starved beasts so often during the Horcrux searches that Ron and Hermione had threatened to douse them with ice water more than once. Hell, Harry and Ginny had probably even had se—Ron's mind abruptly shied away from that implication, but the image of Harry with _Malfoy_ took its place and that was a hundred times worse.

The means—whether spell, potion, or simple ruthless cunning—by which Malfoy had snagged both Harry and Hermione was unimportant. Ron meant to stop him. And possibly extract a pound of flesh for a bloody decade of torment.

"He tried to seduce Hermione," Ron explained to the twins.

George burst out laughing and Fred grinned broadly.

"And he's still alive?"

"Did she turn him back into a ferret?"

Ron glowered at his brothers.

"She was bloody _willing_." That stopped the smirking.

"How the hell did that happen, mate?"

"I don't know! Potion, spell, whatever, I just want him to pay."

"We can't let you kill him, Ron," George said.

"'Fraid not. It's bad for business. We draw the line at being sent to Azkaban."

"Not even for our ickle brother."

"Damn it," Ron snapped. "What's your moral stance on maiming? Permanent bodily injury? Castration?"

George winced.

"Ouch, now you're going too far."

"Even Malfoy don't deserve that fate."

"That's what you think," Ron muttered. He nearly blurted out the truth about Harry, but it was just too horrible and putting it into actual words would make it all too real.

George cocked his purple head dubiously.

"We have plenty of maiming goods, but Malfoy won't just sit there and let you toss one on him."

"By all accounts he's pretty damned skilled these days. He's been battling dark magic for years."

"Besides, I thought Harry was working with him."

"We won't discuss Harry," Ron said in a voice like stone.

"Meaning Potter doesn't know you plan to hex his business partner into a state of eternal torment," George said.

"Don't you think that will make it even harder?" Fred asked.

"I don't care how hard it is. I want him gone!"

Ron slammed a hand down on the desk, rattling coins and causing his brothers to share a glance of concerned annoyance.

"Well… we do have something that might work for you," George admitted.

"It's not permanent, but if you do it right it could get rid of him for quite awhile. Long enough to think of a more long-lasting solution, maybe."

"We nicked it from the Ministry when they shorted us on a payment."

"Highly illegal."

"If you get caught with it, little brother, we'll deny we even know you."

"We do that already," Fred commented.

"Yeah, but this time we'll mean it."

ooOoo

Harry woke in Draco's arms and realized it was definitely an experience he wanted to repeat at least a thousand more times in the future. He never would have guessed Malfoy to be a snuggler, but it had been a very pleasant surprise. The warm body was pressed along the length of Harry's back and their legs were intertwined. Draco's arm hugged Harry close and his fingertips rested against Potter's collarbone.

He discovered Draco was awake when the hands began to move slowly downward. Harry felt a languid warmth steal over him as Malfoy's palm slid over Harry's chest and abdomen. It paused for a moment and Draco's thumb drew small circles around Harry's navel—a sensitive area that snagged Harry's breath.

Rather than continue the descent, Malfoy's hand drew a delicious line to Harry's hipbone and his short fingernails dragged across his flank, causing Harry to jump at the ticklish caress.

_God, one fucking stroke of his hand and I'm already getting hard_, he thought in amazement. Malfoy chuckled in his ear.

"Bastard tease," Harry muttered. "Did you learn nothing last night?"

"You know I'll take care of you," Draco whispered and obligingly wrapped his hand around Harry's growing erection. Harry quivered as Malfoy stroked gently and first and then more boldly. His thumb teased over the head of the shaft and trailed the bead of wetness over the hood.

They both moaned then and Draco slipped downward while rolling Harry onto his back. He positioned himself between Harry's legs and his hair trailed over Potter's torso in a feather light sweep that felt delightful. All teasing abandoned, Draco took care of Harry, as promised, and then kissed him with the strange, salty taste of Potter on his tongue. The kiss was so intense Harry actually felt a response growing again—how the hell did the sexy Slytherin do that?—but finally Malfoy pulled away.

"Pleasant as it would be to spend the entire day in bed with you, I'm afraid Granger might attempt to cook breakfast."

Draco rolled off the bed and began to tug his clothing on.

"I think I know what went wrong with the spell," he commented absently.

"When did you have time to figure that out?" Harry asked.

"After you fell asleep, of course. Your snoring kept me awake."

"I do not snore!"

Draco laughed, but did not elaborate. Harry wondered if he really did snore, but shook off the thought.

"The spell?" he prodded, watching Malfoy button a white shirt. Harry thought it would serve him right if he tore the bloody thing off right now… but he knew that would lead to another round of lovemaking and Harry already felt rather guilty about leaving Hermione alone the night before.

"I don't think the spell was the problem. I just think we need more power." He glanced over his shoulder, fixing his argent eyes on Harry. "That's where you come in."

ooOoo

Hermione was in the kitchen when Draco walked in, but she thankfully wasn't cooking. She sat at the small table nursing a cup of tea and looking morose.

"No word from the Weasel?" Draco guessed.

Hermione sighed. "He sent me a _Patronus_ message. He spent the night with Fred and George at the shop."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll stay there."

Her brown eyes flashed.

"You can be such an ass, you know that?"

Malfoy chuckled and _Accioed_ several items in order to prepare their morning meal.

"So, we're back to normal, are we?"

"Sniping at each other, you mean?" she asked.

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"It is a bad thing!" she snapped. "Although I suppose it's better than you pretending to be nice to me to the point where I—"

His eyes pierced her. "Where you what?"

She flushed. "I started to think I was in love with you," she blurted, Gryffindor to the end.

Draco burst out laughing. He simply couldn't help it. They always wore their damned hearts on their sleeves and everything was so bloody dramatic. Granger looked so serious, like it would be the complete end of the world if she should fall in love with him. Draco laughed so hard he had to sit down for a moment. The growing unamused glitter in Hermione's eyes merely served to add to his hilarity and he finally had to look away and wipe the tears from his eyes in order to stop.

"What is so bloody funny about that?" Hermione gritted, nearly giving him another attack of the giggles.

"Nothing. I'm just… damn, I'm good, aren't I?"

"At trickery? The best."

"I wasn't trying to trick you," he said, sobering a bit.

"Are you trying to trick Harry?"

That question knocked the amusement out of him. He met her gaze evenly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Harry loves you."

"I know that," Draco said simply, causing Hermione to blink at him for a moment.

"I don't want to see him hurt. If you are just toying with him—" she warned.

"I love him, too, Hermione."

The air seemed to deflate from her lungs and her jaw dropped.

"You—you do?"

"Of course I do. He's Harry Potter. Once I stopped hating him, where was all that excess of emotion supposed to go?"

Hermione's expression was priceless and Draco laughed again.

"Don't tell me your image of me as a cruel, selfish, heartless bastard is undergoing a transformation?"

She made a sound of disgust.

"I think I liked you better when you were evil. At least you were easier to understand."

Harry walked in and Draco threw Hermione a wicked glance before waltzing forward and planting a devastating kiss on Harry's lips. Harry stiffened in shock, but it did not take long before his hands slipped up to curl in Draco's hair and his body molded itself to Draco's.

"Maybe you two should go back to your room?" Hermione suggested dryly.

Malfoy broke the kiss and patted a dazed Harry on the rump.

"No time for that, Potter. We have a spell to fix."

Harry sputtered. "Me? You're the one who—"

"How?" Hermione interrupted, obviously snatching at the subject change in relief. "I thought we might try—"

"I'll explain after we eat."

ooOoo

They sat in the living room of the tent and Harry tried to assimilate Draco's plan.

"I don't know if I can replicate it, Draco."

"Of course you can. You've done it twice, now."

"Both times were sort of an emergency," Harry protested.

"You can pretend this is an emergency." Draco held up a hand and grinned. "Actually, I might be able to make it easier. I'm hoping to recreate your memory with me and Granger linked in. Maybe we can figure out how you did it."

"Link in? What do you mean?"

"It's similar to a memory charm, but we're not trying to modify your memory. We're merely trying to recreate it in detail and observe it."

Hermione nodded. "I've heard of this. It's something like Muggle hypnosis, Harry. We'll take you into a trance and regress you back to a particular memory. Instead of relying on questions, however, we will sort of be in your mind with you."

Harry recoiled. He wasn't keen on the idea of anyone wandering about in his mind, not even the two people he trusted most.

"Don't worry, Harry, we'll only be looking at that specific memory," Hermione said.

"Your horrifying experience kissing Cho Chang will remain locked away to terrify you in private," Draco added.

"Can you be serious?" Harry said with a sigh. "What specific memory?"

"The time in the Occamy cave when you saved my life," Draco said quietly. "We need to know how you drew on enough power to nearly bring me back from the dead."

Harry flushed slightly. That was the day he had discovered he was already half in love with Draco Malfoy.

"All right." In truth, Harry was curious as to how he had managed such a massive burst of spell-less magic. Once he had used it to slay Voldemort and once to heal Draco. "How does this hypnosis spell work?"

Draco gestured to Hermione and she joined them on the sofa. They stacked some pillows around Harry to make him more comfortable. Hermione took Harry's left hand and Draco gripped his right.

"You first need to relax. Are you ready?" Malfoy asked softly. Harry stared into the warm grey eyes and nodded with a sigh, trusting Draco completely. "Close your eyes. Now… breathe deeply and hold it. Let it out and relax. Continue taking deep, slow breaths."

He felt Draco remove his glasses as he settled back into the cushions. Malfoy's hand squeezed his reassuringly.

A spot of cold touched his temple—Draco's wand. Malfoy's voice began to chant softly, lulling him into a blissful state of calm. Harry listened to the voice when it started to guide him back to a specific memory.

And then Harry was there, standing before the well and watching Draco drop down into the darkness. He felt a momentary lurch of unreality when the memory of his annoyance was overlapped by a sudden rush of pride followed by fear—his current feelings were clouding his memories.

"Stay with it," Draco whispered. Harry found himself repeating his conversation that day and leaping into the well to land beside Draco, hissing at the sensation of cold water. He spoke Parseltongue (again) and wondered absently if Hermione and Draco could pick up that talent. He chuckled when he watched Draco free the serpents with a very un-Slytherin amount of cringing.

Next they were in the cave with the Occamy and Harry nearly jolted himself out of the trance with a rush of terror—knowing what was coming for Draco, but Malfoy talked him down with the amused reminder that he was fine and currently sitting right next to him. Harry relaxed once more and got through Draco's deadly fight with the Occamy. He watched himself destroy the Horcrux and then the memory seemed to slow down. He strongly sensed the presence of both Draco and Hermione and noticed with detached surprise that he could still feel the couch and the hands clasping his, but he could also feel Draco's blood pulsing the Slytherin's life out beneath Harry's fingers.

And then he was reaching out instinctively for every particle of magic in range—which turned out to be quite a large range. Harry felt a sense of surprise from Draco's essence as the memory version of Harry poured the unrefined magic into Draco while intuitively guiding it along a healing path. Everything seemed to go white again and Harry tried to analyze the process, but he was distracted by his memory emotions.

He looked down into Draco's bloody face again and wiped his cheek tenderly before brushing the silver hair away from Malfoy's brow.

"Time to go," Draco said with a hint of amusement.

Harry came out of his trance feeling delightfully relaxed and warm. He opened his eyes and was surprised when he found it difficult to focus on Draco's beautiful eyes.

Malfoy chuckled and released Harry's hand before he tucked the glasses back onto his face.

"Did you learn anything, Granger?" Draco asked. Harry sat up and noticed that Hermione looked languid and content, also. She smiled dreamily.

"Hermione?" Harry prodded. Hermione's eyes snapped into focus and she sat up, but her bemused smile did not fade.

"You two…" she murmured, "Even then." She giggled. "It's just so sweet."

"For Merlin's sake, Granger, snap out of it!" Draco said. Hermione coughed and seemed to shake herself.

"I don't know, it was very odd. Do you think you can do it again, Harry?"

"I… think so."

"No time like the present," Draco said and stood up.

"Now?"

"Yes, Potter, now. Do you have a prior engagement?"

Harry sighed and stood up. "You're still a bloody pain, you know that?" he griped.

"Don't whine, Potter. Let's go, Granger."

"You know something, Harry?" Hermione asked. At his questioning look, she continued, "You can have him."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Back at the nullification field, they stood in the center once more. Instead of clasping hands, they stood in a triangle and grasped each others' left wrists, which enabled them to maintain contact while keeping their wands in their right hands.

"We're one verse short of the ritual without Ron," Hermione said.

"Forget the ritual. If we cast the spell together and give Harry's little predilection a try, it just might work."

"All right. Skipping ritual, going straight to spell," Harry said. "Is everyone ready?"

"Ready," Hermione said grimly. The three of them raised their wands and began the incantation. When it was nearly complete, Harry cast his senses outward, recalling his actions replayed in the trance.

All at once, he channeled the energy from everything around him into the wand and out again with the release of the spell. He was instantly blinded by a sensation of white light. The power crackled through him soundlessly, but with such force that he suddenly felt incredibly weak. He felt Draco's hand slip off his arm just as Hermione's wrist pulled out of his grasp. He blinked through the diminishing brightness and saw with horror that both Draco and Hermione had collapsed. Harry threw himself down with a cry of dread and desperately felt for a pulse on Draco's throat.

It beat strongly, as did Hermoine's. Harry sagged in relief. They were both unconscious. He picked up their wands and levitated their limp forms to guide them back to the tent. After a few steps, he gasped involuntarily. They were floating; which meant the nullification field was broken. The spell had worked, but at what cost? He quickly escorted his oblivious friends back to the tent and placed them upon the bed he shared with Draco. He bit his lip with worry and removed their shoes to make them more comfortable.

After that, he wasn't certain what to do. They seemed fine, merely asleep, so he went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. Anything to keep from sitting at the bedside wringing his hands with worry.

ooOoo

Draco opened his eyes and immediately shut them at the sudden onset of light-induced pain. The tent had no windows—they had never found it necessary to pamper their clients to that extent—so it was relatively dim in the room, but even that was enough to give him a bloody headache. What the hell had happened?

He remembered casting the spell, trying to reach out for power the way Harry's memories had suggested… and then what? Draco raised a hand and even that small movement was difficult. He felt like he was dragging his hand through molasses as he brought up to his forehead.

It had been Harry. Potter had done it again—drawing the energy from everything around him, including Draco. Malfoy suddenly hoped Harry was all right. He let his hand drop and immediately felt warm flesh against his fingers. He explored it quickly, not bothering to open his eyes again. The wrist was smooth and somewhat thin—definitely not Harry's. Whose then? Granger's?

Draco unwillingly opened his eyes again and blinked to focus against the pain. He was instantly sorry when his gaze locked on the angry visage of the man who stood over him.

Ron Weasley.

ooOoo

Ron had left his brothers' shop after breakfast and flown back to the encampment, hoping the others had not left. He was relieved to find the tent still standing and dropped his broom next to the other two before ducking inside. He expected to find someone in the living room, but it was empty. Ron heard a sound from the kitchen and discovered Harry tapping his wand against a teapot with one hand and yanking at his hair with the other. Harry seemed to be muttering and preoccupied. He did not notice Ron, who ducked out quickly and wondered where the hell Hermione had gone to. And _Malfoy_.

He found out a moment later when he walked through the open door to Harry and Dracos' room, though his mind immediately shied away from that thought.

Ron stopped short at the sight of his wife lying in the same bed as Draco Malfoy. He felt a near-apoplectic burst of rage until he noticed they were both fully clothed and seemed to be comatose.

Ron's eyes quickly flew to Hermione, hoping she wasn't injured. His attention was diverted by Malfoy's hand dropping to Hermione's wrist. Ron watched in arrested silence as the pale hand caressed her arm, twisting a bit to slide a thumb over the sensitive veins at the base of her palm. Ice seemed to form in Ron's chest as he walked quietly forward.

He stood next to the bed and looked down at Draco. It wasn't long before the pale lashes parted and the silver eyes focused on his.

"Hey, Malfoy," Ron said calmly. "I have something for you." He pulled out the small, cloth-wrapped item he had received from his brothers. Draco's right hand was lying on the bed and it slowly turned until the palm faced upward. The fingers flexed as if grasping for something. For a moment, Ron thought he might be reaching for the object Ron held, until he heard Malfoy whisper, "_Accio_ wand," but the item had fallen from the cloth into Malfoy's open palm—and Draco vanished.

A tray of dishes crashed to the floor behind Ron.

ooOoo

Harry strode into the room with an assortment of tea, cups, and biscuits. He stopped short at the sight of Ron standing over the bed—on Draco's side! He half expected Ron to drag out his wand and start lobbing hexes, but Ron held nothing in his hand but a small cloth.

As Harry watched, a small object fell from the cloth into Draco's hand. The instant it touched Malfoy's open palm, the Slytherin disappeared. The tray slipped out of Harry's suddenly boneless fingers. He barely noticed the crash of ceramic and utensils as he stepped over the mess with his eyes fixed on Ron's surprised face.

"Ron, where did he go?" Harry asked. His voice was perfectly normal in the first instant. Until Ron's frightened gaze met his. Harry was across the room faster than he would have believed and he grabbed the front of Ron's robes. "_Where is he, Ron?_"

Weasley struggled to speak, but no words came out. Panic overtook Harry and he nearly lifted Ron off the floor.

"_What. Have. You. Done?_" he demanded and gave Ron a shake with every succinct word. Ron's blue eyes were wild and Harry forced himself to restrain his rage. He did not release Weasley, but he quelled the urge to scream. Harry took a shuddering breath and then managed a nearly normal tone. "Ron. Where is Draco?"

"I… I don't know. It was a Portkey."

"You don't know," Harry repeated and tried to allow the words to penetrate the haze of his anger. A Portkey. Where the hell had Ron gotten a Portkey? They were illegal now and highly regulated by the Ministry. "A Portkey to _where_?"

"I don't know! Fred and George… they didn't say."

Harry released him with a movement that nearly sent Ron sprawling. He stared at Weasley with a growing sense of distress. "You don't know?" he whispered. He pictured Draco in his current weakened state appearing God-knew-where. Harry's eyes flicked to the table next to the bed where Draco's dark wand rested. Malfoy was wandless. For pity's sake, he didn't even have _shoes_. "You don't know," Harry repeated.

Ron's expression was stricken as Harry backed away. Ron held out a placating hand and his voice was pleading.

"Oh God, Harry, I'm so sorry—I didn't think—! I was just so angry…"

Harry's shock fell away suddenly. He _Accioed_ Draco's wand and boots. Without another word to Ron, he turned and fled. Pausing only to snatch up his pack by the door, he dragged on his invisibility cloak and mounted his broom.

Harry flew to London faster than he'd ever flown in his life.

ooOoo

Draco felt a sensation he had not experienced in years and the novelty nearly took the raw edge from his tension. The Portkey flung him to the ground and he lay motionless—mostly because he could not summon the energy to move—and tried to process his surroundings. He found it difficult to concentrate through the growing cloud of black rage.

Fucking Weasley was fucking dead. With that idea calming him somewhat, he glanced at his new locale. He seemed to be in a wet grove of trees. It was beginning to rain. The ground was damp and cold. He had dirt in his hair. That last thought spurred him to action and he sat up, mortified at the difficulty of such a simple motion. He felt woozy to the point of nausea and dropped his head between drawn-up knees for a moment.

_Fucking fucking fucking Weasley_. The angry chant helped steady him and he repeated it a few dozen times for good measure before opening his eyes again to take stock of his situation. He was in a bloody forest. In his socks. Without his wand. In the rain. Without even a bloody cloak.

He spared another few minutes to curse Weasley again and opened his hand to look at the Portkey still clutched therein. It looked like a rusted jar lid. Typical nondescript Ministry tripe. He nearly threw it into the nearby azalea bushes, but stopped and tucked it into a pocket. Once he got back to London and killed Weasley, it might come in handy. Hell, he might even use it to send Weasley's dead body here. Wherever here was.

The fitful rain was becoming annoying. Draco decided to try a bit of magic to make sure Potter had not drained it from him permanently. He raised a hand to his forehead and cast a spell he had learned at age four. It came so naturally now that he no longer needed wand, spell, or even words—although he generally used all three out of habit.

Draco cast and was immediately gratified when he felt the magic tingle through his hair, cleaning every strand and sending it perfectly back into place. He sighed in relief. Although there were bloody few spells he could use without his wand, it was good to know he wasn't completely helpless.

He pulled off his socks, knowing he would rather go barefoot than have the material picking up random bits of twig, brambles, and mud. He folded them neatly and tucked them into his back pocket before attempting to stand up. He managed it, feeling as weak and shaky as a newborn deer. _When the hell is this damned weakness going to wear off? And where the hell am I?_

Although the sky was clouded instead of clear, the time of day seemed to be afternoon, giving Draco some hope that he was still somewhere in Europe and had not been sent halfway across the globe. At least Weasley had not transported him to Antarctica or Bangladesh or bloody Africa.

Draco leaned against a tree and tried to decide which way to go. Several rudimentary breaks in the brush might be natural paths, so he pushed off and followed one, cursing Ron Weasley with every pebble that dug into his bare feet and every drop of rain that hit his face.

He was only momentarily cheered at the thought of what Harry's reaction would be when he discovered his best mate had sent his boyfriend away. The concept halted him. _Boyfriend_, God what a bloody stupid word. Draco supposed _lover_ was more accurate, although it seemed a weak substitute for the depth of their strange relationship.

"Isn't this bloody fabulous?" he muttered. "I'm walking barefoot through a fucking wet, unrecognizable forest analyzing my love life. I've turned into a goddamned _girl_. Thank you, Weasley. Now I have to kill you twice."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Harry flew straight Diagon Alley. Before he entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he paused and quickly sent a _Patronus_ message to Draco, uncertain if he would even get it. He had debated sending Hedwig, but what if Malfoy were halfway across the world?

Fred and George were both helping customers, but when George noticed Harry's turbulent expression and impatient attitude, he quickly pawned off his client on the shop assistant and ushered Harry into the back room.

Harry snarled, "The Portkey you gave Ron—where does it go?"

George lifted a red brow. "Ron used it, then?"

"Yes. He used it. Now I need to know where the fuck he sent Draco so that I can go fetch him back."

George gaped at him and Harry realized absently that he had apparently never used strong language around the twins, but he also thought he was doing an admirable job of not springing upon George and strangling the answer out of him.

"Malfoy is far from helpless, mate. I'm sure he'll get back on his own. You might want to start thinking of ways to protect Ronald once that happens. Little brother apparently didn't think that far ahead." Harry scowled. Neither had they, as they had given him the damned thing.

"Just tell me where Draco is!" Harry said, trying not to shout and failing. Protecting Ron was the last bloody thing he cared about at the moment.

Fred wandered in just in time to catch Harry's outburst and the two brothers watched each other for a moment before George replied, "We don't know."

Harry had to sit down. He groped blindly for a chair and Fred scooted one beneath him with a quick spell.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"We nicked it, mate. We didn't look around for operating instructions."

"It was in a case labeled 'Portkeys,'" Fred said.

"You only took one?" Harry asked.

"Well, no, three actually," George admitted.

"We already used that one that leads to Athens."

"That was a great vacation."

"Why couldn't you have given that one to Ron?" Harry snapped.

"Harry, it's Malfoy we're talking about. We couldn't send the git to paradise."

"You have no bloody idea where the other one led?"

"Fred, can you recall anything?"

Fred perched his mottled burgundy body on the desk and tugged at his green hair. It looked particularly heinous with the red roots poking through.

"Let me think. Were they labeled at all?"

"Well, the bottle Portkey was sitting on that tag that said 'Greece,' remember? That's why we grabbed it."

"Yeah, I remember that label now. But the other two?"

"One was blurred. Like it got wet. I think it started with an 'I,'" George said, snapping his fingers. Harry sat forward.

"Like Iceland? Ireland?" he asked.

"India? Irkutsk?" Fred added.

"Idaho?" asked George.

Fred gave George a look of disgust. "_Idaho_? Who the hell would make a Portkey to Idaho? No one even knows where that is."

"Somewhere in America."

"Exactly. Who would go there?"

"Who the hell would go to Irkutsk?"

"Russians."

"How many fucking Russians are at the Ministry?"

"Knock it off!" Harry yelled. "Can you please _focus_?"

The twins relaxed from their positions of preparing to throttle one another and George cocked a brow at Harry.

"Why are you so keen to find Malfoy, Harry?"

"I need him," Harry admitted quietly and something in his tone caused George to give him a measuring look.

"I'd try Ireland, mate. It's the most logical."

Fred nodded. "Most of the Ministry Portkeys go to places in Europe. We think our last one goes to Exmoor."

"I would wager Ireland or Iceland."

Harry sighed, realizing he would not be getting any better information from the twins. Ireland. Great. Where in Ireland? He stood up.

"I'd better get started. It's going to be a long flight."

A bloody long flight over some bloody dangerous country. He headed for the door.

"Hey, Harry?" George called and Harry paused.

"Sorry. We didn't know you… cared about the git."

Harry nodded and went out.

ooOoo

Draco had moved beyond plotting Weasley's demise straight into the realm of utter boredom. Wherever Weasley had sent him, it was about an interesting as watching Polyjuice Potion ferment. It seemed to be acres upon endless acres of oak and holly trees, interspersed with hellish thickets of bramble bushes festooned with dried berries. Draco was tired of being scratched and scraped and at one point he had blundered into a veritable hedge of nettles that left him with itchy, stinging welts on both feet and hands.

He admitted there was a slight possibility that he had taken the wrong path and was going in a completely different direction from any sort of assistance. However, being a Malfoy, he refused to admit his chosen path was in any way _wrong_ and therefore continued to blunder onward rather than turn around and begin again.

He was glad when it stopped raining.

At one point he gashed open the side of his bare foot on some sort of demonic object that lurched from the ground to attack him. All right, it was simply a bloody sharp rock that he hadn't noticed after stumbling through another fat lot of brambles. But it bled quite nastily until he was forced to remove his shirt and tear at it with his teeth until he could rip off several strips to bind around the wound.

He continued on, limping, and pondered the _Patronus_ message he had received from Harry.

S_tay where you are. I'm coming for you._

Draco snorted. _Stay where you are_. Sorry, Potter, but I choose not to spend one moment longer than absolutely necessary in this horrid forest and intend to locate myself a broom, wand, food, and bed in whatever order they happen to be located.

ooOoo

Harry returned to Number Twelve Grimmald Place and pelted down the stairs to collect some things for his trip. He nearly bowled over Tonks on his way to the kitchen.

"What the—Harry, what's wrong?"

"Damned Ron sent Draco away with a Portkey. I hope to hell he's in Ireland, since that's where I'm going. Bloody six hour flight, isn't it? At top speed and ignoring all the horrors lurking between here and there…"

"Six hours?" she asked. "Why don't you just fly?"

He looked at her unblinkingly. "I am flying. Didn't I just say that?"

Tonks giggled. "Sometimes you need to think like a Muggle, Harry. An aeroplane can get you there in a bit over two hours. I know, my dad took me there, once."

Harry stared at her in astonishment. Bloody hell, she was right. He ran to her and kissed her soundly on the lips. She blushed and laughed.

"I'll need Hedwig—and my broom. I should be able to take the broom if I throw my invisibility cloak over it. But Hedwig…? Do they allow animals?"

"Why are you going after Draco? Can't he get back on his own? He's not exactly helpless."

Harry made an angry hissing noise. "Good old Ron sent him away without his wand. And I have the oddest feeling that Draco is in danger."

"Of course he's in danger," Tonks said dryly. "Every time he opens his mouth someone wants to put a fist in it."

Harry couldn't argue with that.

ooOoo

Draco was in no danger at the moment, but it was out there. He could sense it. Draco swiveled his head and stared into the brambles, certain he had heard a whisper of sound.

He waited, unmoving, with senses strained for long minutes. Finally it came again—the slightest rustle (cloth against leaves?) as though someone tried to move silently through the undergrowth.

Draco muttered a curse. Anything lurking in the brush trying to be quiet could not be good. He sighed and looked around for something to use as a weapon. Sticks and rocks. Lovely. That should be effective against all manner of magical horrors.

Regardless, he located a fairly straight branch on a nearby deadfall and broke it off. He twirled it experimentally to check the balance and then spent a few minutes sharpening the tip into a deadly point on a nearby rock, pausing now and again to listen for the lurker.

Thus armed (sort of) he started off again.

Draco began to feel like he was being herded. The rustling had grown louder and came from both left and right. He considered turning around and going back the way he came, intentionally provoking a confrontation, but the knowledge of his current weakened state made him pause.

Truthfully, he felt much stronger than when he had been deposited in this place. He still wasn't fully recovered and probably wouldn't be without a decent meal and a good night's sleep, but at least he no longer staggered, nor needed to rest every twelve minutes.

The stand of oak trees he'd been pushing his way through suddenly thinned and he found himself entering a beautiful, grassy meadow. At the far edge of it stood a cottage.

Draco walked across the wet grass, turning now and again to examine the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of those that shadowed him. He saw nothing and turned to look at the cottage critically. If he had been driven to this place he was quite certain he wanted no part of it. However, alternative options seemed to be in short supply.

He sighed. He would just have to pretend to be a Gryffindor and march boldly up to the front door. Draco preferred the Slytherin method of waiting until dark and spying on the place before breaking in and taking what he needed, but he was too bloody tired, annoyed, and impatient to wait—sunset looked to be a number of hours away yet.

He continued through the meadow and walked through the wooden gate that bisected the low stone wall. The place looked quaint and well-tended with shorn lawn, flowers, and ornamental plants. A wisp of smoke curled from the chimney; someone was definitely home.

Draco quickly put his shirt back on—he'd been using it to swat at the hoards of insects determined to feast on his flesh the instant it had stopped raining—and tucked it into his trousers to disguise the ragged bit where he had procured his makeshift bandage.

The lack of shoes would be hard to explain… No help for it. He stepped forward and knocked on the door. It swung open after a single rap and a woman gazed at him appraisingly.

"I wondered if you would stand out there all day," she said. Draco studied her curiously. She was tall and slender, of indeterminate age, though Malfoy would place her in the same realm as Remus Lupin or his parents. Her hair was dark red, only lightly shot through with grey, and she had bright green eyes and a pleasant smile. At the sound of her quiet accent, Draco knew where he was.

Ireland.

She stepped aside and gestured for Draco to enter. She seemed like a perfectly ordinary woman and it seemed like a perfectly ordinary cottage, but stepping over the threshold gave Draco a sudden sense of trepidation, as if he suddenly walked into the lair of a very hungry beast.

"What brings you out here on such a dreary day?" she asked as Draco sat gingerly on the sofa, well aware of his muddied state. "And, if I might ask, where are your shoes?"

Draco had found plenty of time to concoct a semi-plausible lie for that one. Semi-plausible as long as one had no clue as to Draco Malfoy's character.

"I'm afraid I wandered into a bog and became quite stuck. I escaped, but the boots were not so lucky." He grinned innocuously, thinking there was no way in hell he ever would have wandered into a bog, nor left it without his favorite boots, but this red-haired (Muggle?) need not know that. She poured him a cup of tea from and picked up another for herself.

His eyes warily scanned the room, seeking clues to the woman's identity, be she witch or Muggle. He saw no magical accoutrements at all but for random baskets of growing herbs. He began to relax.

"Are you lost?" she asked in amusement. Draco grimaced.

"I'm afraid so. Stepped away from the path for a call of nature and got completely turned around."

She had to think he was a complete imbecile. The bright green eyes measured him carefully. She sipped at her tea and said nothing. Then again, perhaps she knew Draco was lying through his teeth.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Dean Thomas," Draco replied. It was generic enough to be unrecognizable. A smile touched her red lips. Enigmatic.

"Well, Dean Thomas, I am Maeve."

Malfoy's eyes measured her this time.

"As in Queen Maeve?" he asked. She laughed brightly and set her cup down.

"Do I look that old?"

"Not at all," he acknowledged, but he wondered. Maeve was a witch's name, although he was certain Muggles were not excepted from using it..

"You look uncomfortable," she said suddenly. "Would you like to freshen up while I prepare you something to eat?"

"That won't be necessary. If you could just point me in the right direction, I'll be off."

She shook her head and her curled bobbed.

"Oh no, I couldn't let you wander off shoeless and hungry. And your foot needs tending. Come along—I'll run a bath for you."

In the end, Draco could not think of a graceful way to extract himself from Maeve's enforced kindness and he unwillingly handed her his clothing through a crack in the door before sinking into a steaming hot bath.

He was far too uncomfortable to spend his usual ludicrous amount of time in the tub (as Harry would put it) so he merely scrubbed until his skin gleamed, washed his hair (even thought it wasn't necessary) and climbed out.

Draco's clothes—clean and dry—sat on a bench near the door, although he had not seen Maeve enter.

He borrowed a shell comb from a nearby washstand and pulled it through his hair before walking back out to the main room. Draco sat down again and wished he could rid himself of the nagging sense of unease. Perhaps it was simply the lack of magic at hand that bothered him—he had not realized how much he depended on it until it was gone.

He wondered suddenly where Harry was and sighed, knowing Ireland was a bloody long flight from London. Malfoy likely would not see Potter until morning. For a moment Draco considered bolting, but at that moment Maeve returned from another room carrying a tray laden with food.

"You look so much better, lad. I'm certain sure you're starved, also." She set the tray across his lap and looked at him shrewdly.

"I'll bet you're a wine drinker. Red, correct? Chateaux Lafite-Rothschild?"

Draco nodded curtly and dug into the food as Maeve departed again—likely for the kitchen. He was ravenous after dragging through the Irish countryside all afternoon.

Maeve returned with a bottle and two goblets. She poured a glass for Draco and one for herself and then sat back to watch him eat.

Draco noted that she was quite pretty. A few months ago, he might have been tempted to repay her kindness. The thought made him grin ruefully. Bloody Potter had completely ruined him for that sort of thing. He sighed. Damn, but he missed Harry.

He set the tray aside and sipped at his glass as Maeve did the same.

"So tell me, Malfoy," she said after a moment. "How is your father?"

ooOoo

Harry got off the plane in Dublin and carried his invisible broom in one hand and the cage containing Hedwig in another. He decided that Muggle flight was faster, but far more nerve-wracking than broom travel. Being trapped inside a large metal box as it jolted and shook with every errand wind was so stressful he had finally ordered some sort of alcoholic drink to steady his nerves. He was never so glad to have his feet touch ground.

Once outside, he ducked into a spot shielded from view and slung his cloak over himself and the bird and took to the air. He quickly flew out of town and into a secluded spot of green. Hedwig was quickly released from the cage and Harry gave her an owl treat and stroked her feathers for a moment.

"All right, girl. Find Draco."

The white owl flapped her wings and immediately darted off southward. Harry kicked off and followed her, giving thanks that she had not flown northwest, toward Iceland.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Only years of discipline enabled Draco to keep his features impassive. He cocked a brow at Maeve.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now. You can't go round calling yourself Dean Thomas when you're the bleeding image of Lucius Malfoy."

Draco weighed his options. The question of whether or not she was a witch had been answered. Her intentions were quite another matter. If Draco continued to play innocent, he might simply anger her.

"You knew my father, then?" he asked calmly. She picked up on the past tense immediately.

"Knew?"

"He died in the war. We had quite a nasty one over there, you know."

"Yes, some Muggle-born upstart," she murmured. "I heard. So… dear Lucius is dead. And your mum?"

"The same," Draco said, though his voice was not quite as aloof.

"My, my, my," said Maeve thoughtfully. "I'm terribly sorry."

Draco's eyes narrowed. She did not sound sorry at all. She sounded… disappointed. Maeve heaved a great sigh.

"Oh well," she said. "A pity, but I suppose it doesn't really change things."

"What things?" Draco asked warily.

"Don't worry your pretty, pretty head about it, dearie," she said airily.

For some reason, the bland words set alarm bells clanging in Draco's head, which was also beginning to develop a headache.

"How did you know my father?" he asked.

Maeve leaned forward.

"Oh we were lovers at one time," she admitted almost conspiratorially. Draco waited, wondering—and somewhat dreading—what was coming next. His father was no saint, but Draco did not need his memory sullied with information he had no desire to hear. Had Lucius had a fling with Maeve during his marriage? If so, Draco would rather not know. Instead of clarifying, she surprised him with a question.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?"

"I was sent here," he said and blanched. _Why the hell had he admitted that?_

"By whom?"

"Ron Weasley."

Draco set his wineglass down with growing anger. He glared at Maeve, who smiled prettily.

"Yes. Just a drop of Veritaserum. Quite handy when asking questions of those genetically inclined to lie."

Veritaserum. Fuck.

"And why did Ron Weasley send you here?"

"Jealous rage, I believe," Draco said dryly. Maeve sat back with a delighted laugh.

"Well, well, well. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

Draco suddenly felt a bizarre weakness steal over him and his anger became something more alarming. His vision blurred and he blinked quickly to clear it.

"What… do you want?" he asked.

"Revenge, of course. You don't know just how much I would love to avenge myself on Lucius Malfoy for tossing me aside like some cheap British harlot." Her green eyes glittered and her face twisted until it was no longer pretty. "Not good enough to marry, was I? My blood traces pure all the way back to Queen Maeve, but that wasn't good enough for your father, was it?"

Maeve stood up and quickly walked to a small desk beneath the window. She yanked open a drawer and took out a slim wand.

"He had to have that pale bitch Narcissa Black. The bloody bastard had it planned the whole time."

She glared at Draco.

"Where is your wand?" she asked.

"About thirty kilometers outside London, last I saw it," Draco replied, though it was becoming difficult to concentrate. He was incredibly tired. Maeve smiled in satisfaction.

"So, the Weasley sent you here without your wand. I shall have to send him a note of thanks."

"Did you drug the wine or the food?" Draco asked and noted that his words were slurred a bit. Her face went cloudy and swam out of focus and her voice seemed to come from a great distance.

"The wine. The Veritaserum was in your glass—just a little swirl at the bottom. But the potion was in the bottle. I took the antidote before I brought it out."

"What… potion?" Draco managed. He felt his head loll back against the sofa and decided if he managed to get out of this one he would never put himself in a position of helplessness again.

"Just a sleeping potion, lad. I can't have you trying to run off while I make preparations, can I?"

"Preparations… for what?"

If she replied, he did not hear her as the fog closed in.

Draco's first awareness was of discomfort, quickly followed by the discovery that he was wet.

He opened his eyes reluctantly to find himself looking at a darkening grey sky. A wet, grey sky. A few trees dangled branches overhead, but not quite enough to shelter him from the steadily falling rain.

His hands were stretched over his head—he tugged experimentally—and bound.

Judging by the unpleasant and cold sensation against his back, he lay on some sort of weathered stone. Unclothed. Draco shifted slightly. Mostly unclothed. The vengeful bitch had at least left him his boxers. He snorted. Like that was comforting.

He craned his head and found himself sprawled on a boulder at the edge of a small clearing. He seemed to be alone.

Had she staked him out for the wolves? Not that any self-respecting wolf would eat a human unless they were starving to death. If there were any wolves left in Ireland. More likely she had just left him for dead.

Draco jerked at his bonds. As expected, his feet were tied, also. He cursed. Just his bloody luck to stumble on the only damned woman in all of Ireland with a psychotic grudge against his father. Draco thought about that for a moment and realized that it probably wasn't all that unlikely. It was quite possible that half the women in Ireland had a similar rancor toward his father.

He lay still and concentrated, trying to ignore the rain tapping endlessly on him. He seemed to be bound with ordinary ropes. Foolish woman. Draco began to work on the knots while muttering the words to a loosening spell.

What would have taken an instant with a wand took an impossible amount of time without one. Draco worked on the ropes for ten minutes and felt only a slight loosening, which might have been his imagination. Meanwhile, his shoulders were screaming from the strain and the unyielding rigidity of his bed. Bloody hell, he had never been good at patience.

Draco stilled when he heard movement and Maeve's face appeared above his. She was dry—sheltered by an umbrella spell—and for a moment the rain stopped pelting Draco's face.

Maeve moved closer until her lips were near Draco's ear.

"You're a fine specimen of a man, Malfoy. Maybe I should place an _Imperius_ on you and turn you into my willing slave." Her hand trailed over Draco's chest and down his abdomen. "Or perhaps a love potion."

Draco refused to give her the satisfaction of a response, although his heart jumped in alarm. Bloody hell, he wasn't ready to leave Harry, not even under the influence of a love potion. What would happen if you were already in love? Would the potion cancel the original feelings? Most likely they would simply be drowned in the magically induced lust.

"No. Too much trouble," she decided. "_Imperius Curses_ can be fought and the effects of a love potion grow tedious. All that adoration becomes cloying."

Not to mention the pesky knowledge that it's not real, Draco added mentally, but he was disturbed by her words. She spoke as if from experience.

"I'll have to stick with the original plan and sacrifice you on the altar, here, Malfoy. I have a protection spell on the land here to keep the Muggles from destroying it… and from discovering my presence. Every so often it needs replenishing."

Sacrifice. Suddenly, the love potion did not seem like a bad option.

She set a wicked-looking dagger on Draco's chest and drew her wand. She stood and raised her arms with a flourish and Draco heaved upward, nearly wrenching his arms from their sockets. The knife flipped off of his skin and sailed to the far side of the altar.

Maeve glowered at him.

"Don't irritate me, Malfoy," she warned. "Or I'll start cutting off pieces before I administer the coup de grace."

She marched around the altar and bent to retrieve the knife. Draco worked on his ropes, though his shoulders burned agonizingly.

Maeve stepped up again and this time she tucked the dagger into her belt. She raised her wand once more and began an incantation. Draco felt power begin to gather and was reminded of Harry's odd ability. Malfoy decided to try the same thing and he cast out his senses for whatever intangible thing caused magic to work.

Draco felt something—a heaviness, but it was more likely Maeve's spell beginning than any special ability of his.

Maeve's voice rose to a shout with the words of ancient arcane magic and she snatched the dagger from her belt. She lifted it over her head.

Draco tried Harry's trick of siphoning the magic out of the very air—with no result. Maeve's voice did not falter.

Just when Draco began to think he was done for, a white shape hurtled through the air and nearly clipped Maeve, who ducked with an enraged shriek. The gathering magic seemed to shatter. _Please let that be Hedwig_, Draco thought. His hope was answered an instant later when a blast of light hammered into Maeve before she could recover. Draco heard her scream and then a warm body pressed against his.

"How did I know I'd find you like this?" Harry asked and Draco's relief and joy were nearly overwhelming. Then Draco's bonds were gone and Harry's hands were on him, touching him everywhere as if to ascertain his reality. Harry dragged Malfoy away from the altar and held him tightly, propping him upright. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry even though they were three-quarters numb and one-quarter tingling with the fire of returning circulation. He nuzzled his face into Harry's wonderful neck.

"Harry Potter," Draco murmured giddily. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Not recently, no," Harry said seriously.

"Foolish of me," Draco muttered and kissed him. He clung to Harry tightly, devouring him, borrowing Potter's strength until he could move his limbs again. Harry returned the kiss as though he'd been starving without Draco. Malfoy reluctantly broke the kiss, knowing they couldn't stand in the rain snogging all night.

"Want to tell me who your latest enemy is?" Harry asked breathlessly with a glance at Maeve.

"Old friend of my father," Draco said.

"That explains it. Sort of." Harry took off his cloak and slung it over Draco's shoulders. Draco clutched it together with one hand. Harry held out Draco's wand. "I suppose you'll be wanting this?"

Draco took the smooth wood with an incredible sense of liberation.

"Yes. I'll need this to kill Weasley."

Draco waited for Harry to protest but Potter simply had a delighted grin on his face that made Draco's lips twitch in response.

"You aren't listening to me, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not in regards to that subject. Besides, I'm so bloody glad to see you I can hardly contain myself. I was afraid I'd have to fly to bloody Irkutsk to rescue you."

"How did you get here so fast? It's impossible by broom."

"I cheated. Let's get you out of the wet. What shall we do with her?" Harry gestured at the fallen woman. Hedwig had perched in a nearby tree. The owl fluttered her wet feathers and looked at Harry reproachfully.

"Maniacal Maeve? I'll deal with her."

"You won't kill her, will you?" Harry asked nervously.

"Of course not. That would be damned callous and bloodthirsty," Draco replied.

"And you've never been either of those."

"Certainly not."

"I brought you some clothes. Do you know where we are?"

Draco laughed. "I know exactly where we are." He marched over to the unconscious Maeve and spent a bit of time modifying her memories to exclude all recollection of Draco and events following. He snatched up the knife and returned to Harry.

"Are you going to leave her there?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Yes," Draco said adamantly and gave Harry a hard look.

Potter acquiesced with a long-suffering sigh and Draco led the way down the gravel path to a jumble of huge jutting stones and another path nearly overgrown with greenery. A sign conveniently read _Druid's Cave_.

"Amusingly, the Muggles don't realize that this really is a magical place," Draco said and pushed his way into the close set stones. He cast an Alohomora spell and one stone wall swung aside to reveal steps leading downward. Draco stepped inside and followed the stairs to the bottom. Harry followed and the door grated shut behind them. Draco lit his wand to reveal a large cottage-like room cut from the stone. It contained rudimentary furnishings—a large bed, small table, washstand, and a large wooden tub. Draco sent a jet of magic to several of the oil lamps scattered around the room and they flamed into light. He tossed the knife on the table.

"Wizards have used this as temporary shelter for centuries," Draco said.

"How did you know this was here?" Harry asked in amazement.

"My mum brought me here once for some sort of history lesson, I believe. Back when it was safe to _Apparate_. As if I cared about Irish history." Draco laughed. "I think I was eight. I remember being bored out of my bloody skull."

"You probably whined the entire time."

"Malfoys don't whine," Draco said absently. "I do remember thinking this cave was excellent, though. Apparently it was here long before the castle."

"What castle?"

"Bloody hell, Harry, you had to have flown right past it. Tall edifice… made of stone?"

"I passed hundreds of those. I was concentrating on following Hedwig. Didn't notice."

Draco shook his head, but smiled fondly. "Well, you're nearly under Blarney Castle. In fact, there is a passage here that leads to the tunnels beneath the castle." He waved at a blank wall near the tub. "I'll give you a tour later, if you're interested."

"I'm only interested in one thing at the moment," Harry said seriously and Draco grinned wickedly as Potter stepped forward and slipped his hands under Malfoy's cloak to pull him closer.

Harry's lips fastened on his and Draco surrendered to the pure bliss of kissing Harry. Potter's hands curled in Draco's wet hair.

"You're cold," Harry murmured against his lips. "Let me warm you." Potter slid his hands over Draco's skin at the same moment Malfoy tore Harry's shirt open.

"Damned buttons," Draco said and trailed his lips and tongue over Harry's collarbone while his hands caressed Harry's ribs. Potter made a breathy sound that made Draco pull him forward until their bare torsos touched. Harry's flesh was warm against Draco's chilled skin.

Malfoy kissed him again and maneuvered him toward the bed, but Potter suddenly slipped out of his grasp and darted to his pack.

"I have a present for you," Harry said. "I almost forgot."

Draco sat on the bed and watched in amusement until Harry pulled out a small earthenware jar. The wicked look in Harry's eyes caused Malfoy to raise a brow.

"What is it?"

"You'll see." Harry chuckled. He gestured imperiously. "On the bed, Malfoy."

"I am on the bed."

"I mean lie down, damn you."

Draco sighed, but obediently shrugged off Harry's cloak. He cast a quick spell to remove the dust from the bed and changed the tatty old blankets to something more comfortable and luxurious. He then slid back onto the improved bedding and put his hands behind his head. Draco waited expectantly. Harry shrugged his torn shirt off and sat on the bed next to Draco. He scowled as he ran a hand over Draco's torso and saw the bloody scratches.

Harry pulled out his wand and began to cast a healing spell over each one.

"That's not necessary, Potter," Draco said but shut up quickly when Harry pressed his lips against each one as it healed. Seven wounds later and Draco was feeling delightfully aroused. Potter finished with Draco's upper body and examined Malfoy's legs—scratch-free, mostly—and drew in a breath when he reached Draco's feet. He quickly healed the torn gash, blisters, and assorted scratches.

"Ron has much to answer for," Harry said grimly.

"Did you at least hit him?" Draco asked hopefully.

Harry flushed. "No, I was too intent on finding you."

Draco frowned. "Not even an angry slap or two?"

"I yelled at him," Harry said defensively.

Draco sighed. "You yell at everyone, Potter. It's a Gryffindor trait, I believe. I see I shall have to get my own revenge."

"I'm sure Hermione wasn't too happy to wake up and find us both gone."

"Yes, I'm certain she gave him a stern talking to," Draco said dryly.

"Let's not talk about Ron," Harry snapped. "We've got better things to do. Much better. Starting with your lovely feet, I believe."

Harry unscrewed the lid.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Harry set the lid on the edge of the bed and gave Draco a look that nearly took his breath away. Potter did not take control very often, but when he did it was always an invigorating experience.

"What is that?" he asked as Harry dipped his fingers into the jar. Potter held up his hand and wiggled his fingers slightly. They were coated with a pale cream that resembled… custard?

"It's a surprise," Harry said and grinned widely.

"I've had more than enough surprises today, Potter."

"Not like this," Harry replied and Draco wondered when the hell Potter had learned to pitch his voice to that ultra-sexy level. He did not have time to ask because Harry's hand dropped to Draco's right foot and began to rub the concoction over the arch and across the tops of his toes. He followed it with his left hand and began to rub, squeezing Malfoy's foot with both hands and sliding his thumbs over the top in sensual circles while his fingers pressed into the bottom of his foot.

Draco groaned aloud at the fabulous massage. He hadn't realized how brutal walking barefoot had been until Potter started working out the kinks. Harry's fingers slid gently between his toes, rubbing each one in turn before kneading the ball of his foot with stiffened thumbs.

Harry bent down and took one of Draco's toes in his mouth. Malfoy's eyes widened and he stared at the mischievous green eyes that sparkled at him beneath the black frames. Draco inhaled a surprised breath when Harry sucked on it for a moment and then raised his head with a grin.

"Mmmm," he said. "Vanilla."

"It's _edible_?" Draco burst out.

"Oh yeah," Harry laughed. "Is it working?" Before Draco could reply, Harry pursed his lips and blew over Draco's foot, which instantly grew ice-cold and then warmed with a tingling sensation.

"Holy fuck, Potter."

Harry laughed. "It probably won't be _that_ good, but I'll do my best."

Draco groaned and then stopped thinking completely when Harry started on the other foot. Harry became a master of sensual torment, sliding his fingers and tongue under each of Draco's toes and licking in between them until Malfoy nearly reached down and pulled him up by the hair. He tried it, in fact, but Potter evaded his amorous grasp.

"No, you don't. I'm just getting warmed up."

Harry moved on to Draco's calves, dipping into the jar every so often and Draco began to wonder if he would survive the night. Harry massaged every muscle and started on Draco's thighs, kneading with both long and short strokes. Malfoy was fully aroused by then and nearly begged Harry to end the bloody massage, but Potter's face was set in that determined, stubborn Gryffindor look. When Harry reached the bottom edge of Draco's silk boxers, he smiled and said, "You won't need these any more." He lifted them carefully and tugged them downward, ever so slowly freeing Draco's hard erection and sliding the silk over Malfoy's legs like a caress, which it was. The soft material was incredibly erotic on Draco's overly-sensitive legs.

Harry pulled them over his feet and tossed them aside in a quick motion before resuming his massage.

"Harry… please…" Draco pleaded.

"Not quite yet," Harry said wickedly and his hands slid over Draco's flanks, close to Malfoy's throbbing cock, yet never touching it. His palms swirled over Draco's abdomen and Harry bent down to dip his tongue into Malfoy's navel, causing Draco to gasp aloud—not because of the lick, but because a wisp of Harry's soft hair brushed the head of his cock in a tantalizing, diminutive contact.

Harry straightened and traced his fingers over the barely visible, long-healed scars that crossed Draco's chest. Harry no longer agonized over the evident reminder of his _Sectumsempra_, thank goodness, and he only sighed once before moving on to knead Draco's chest and shoulders, squeezing muscles strained by Malfoy's effort to free himself from the ropes. It felt so bloody good that Draco felt his erection ease a bit as he relaxed under Harry's ministrations. Potter continued the massage on Draco's arms and hands. Draco's skin was so sensitive from the salve that he thought he could feel air currents swirling in the room.

Harry finished his hands at last and said, "Turn over."

"Hell no!" Draco burst out. "I am not going through that torture again on the back side."

"Oh, come now. At least let me put some on that beautiful, tight ass of yours."

Draco couldn't resist when Potter put it like that. He sighed explosively and rolled over. Harry obediently smeared the cream over Malfoy's buttocks and massaged languidly. He leaned down again and blew on Draco's skin, causing goose flesh to edge up his spine in a delicious shiver.

Draco felt Harry's fingers at the vee near the top of his ass and then they slipped into the crack to glide over his anus. Draco's back arched and he felt his toes curl in reflex, but Harry was no longer teasing. One hand remained there and the other cupped Draco's testicles and massaged them gently. Draco felt like mewling and suppressed it only by biting his lip until he nearly drew blood, especially when he felt Harry's hot breath on his ass again—amplified by the salve into an electrifying wave of heat. Harry's face drew closer and his breath hotter until he felt Harry's tongue slide over the skin at the base of his testicles and trail upward until it joined Harry's fingers at Draco's anus. Potter's tongue flicked around it and Draco gasped as his fists clenched into the blankets convulsively. He felt his toes dig into the bed.

"_God, Harry!_" Malfoy decided that the Gryffindor was possessed, but it was a _good_ possessed, _oh hell yes_… Draco thought he might melt.

Harry's other hand located Draco's cock and grasped it gently. Draco made a sound unintelligible in any language. Potter relented and touched Draco's thigh to roll him onto his back again. Both hands were dipped in salve and slid over Draco's hard shaft, massaging more than caressing. Harry gave the balm a moment to work and then blew on it, sending a shiver up Draco's spine. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a heaving groan escaped when Harry's mouth followed the breath and his tongue moved with agonizing slowness from the base of Draco's cock up to the tip before he finally—_oh, God, finally!_—enveloped it completely in hot wetness.

Harry's head bobbed as his mouth worked its magic. Draco's hands twisted in Potter's hair and knocked his glasses askew. Draco gently pulled them off with one hand and dropped them next to the pillow before returning his grip to Potter's raven hair. He was so close to coming, _so close_… Malfoy suddenly wanted to prolong it.

Draco pulled his hair—hard—and Harry released him with a grimace of pain. The green eyes sought Draco's questioningly.

"Come here," Draco murmured, dragging Harry upward. Potter slid the length of Draco's body until their lips met in a crushing kiss. Harry still wore his jeans and the rough material was harsh on Draco's supercharged flesh.

"Get those bloody clothes off," Draco said hoarsely against Harry's wet vanilla-flavored lips. "I want you inside me."

He felt Harry's breath hitch with a quick movement of his chest and then Harry was gone, stripping to bare skin before easing onto Malfoy again. His hands touched Draco everywhere, sending tremors through Draco's nerve endings—God, but his skin was sensitive! Harry's mouth teased Draco's again—a lingering, precious delight of a kiss—and Malfoy could not decide what was better: the kiss or Harry's hand between his legs. The fingers were gone for an instant and then returned to smooth salve over Malfoy's tight opening.

Harry's mouth left his and he raised himself on one arm. Draco loved to watch Harry's face when it screwed up in concentration—his green eyes were tightly shut and his brow was creased. Harry's lips were slightly parted and Draco tried not to move as Harry pushed into him, but he couldn't stop the guttural sound that rumbled in his throat or the gasp when Harry thrust forward. The green eyes snapped open with a trace of concern. _God forbid he ever actually hurt me_, Draco thought in amusement. He touched Harry's shoulder in reassurance. Potter took a steadying breath and began to move, bracing one hand on the bed and the other on Draco's hip.

Harry knew exactly what to do to drive Draco wild—his thrusts were perfectly timed and his fingers slid from Draco's pelvis to his cock and lightly stroked in time with his driving rhythm. Draco whispered his name with every exhale, loving the breathy sound of it. His eyes drank in the sight of Potter above him. The black hair brushed Harry's shoulders and curled over his scar, wet with sweat—his chest was slick with it. Harry's face was the picture of concentration—eyes closed and beautiful lips slightly parted. His head was tipped back and the line of his neck was a pale contrast against his hair. Damn, but he was gorgeous.

Draco shut his eyes then, lost in the building sensations. God, but it felt good when Potter did that—that—_that!_ Harry's rhythm increased and Draco's eyes snapped open as the orgasm blazed through him with explosive force. He knew Harry's would follow. Potter's back arched suddenly and his body grew taut and shuddered with spasms. He half-moaned Draco's name. Malfoy was positive he'd never seen anything more erotic in his life.

The emerald eyes opened and met Malfoy's for a timeless moment and then Harry collapsed weakly on Draco's chest. His breath panted against Malfoy's neck. Draco's arms wrapped around Harry's sweat-soaked back.

"Bloody hell," Harry gasped. "Every time with you… is better than the last."

Draco's grip tightened and his hands slicked over Harry's skin. He held Harry until their breathing slowed.

"Interesting salve," Draco commented.

They lay quietly for awhile, locked in a sweet embrace. Harry's breath against Draco's collarbone was pleasantly distracting—wafting out in a steamy puff and leaving a chill when he inhaled. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. The timing slowed and Draco wondered if Harry was drifting off to sleep.

Draco could not allow that. Not after Harry woke up every nerve ending in Draco's body and made them dance with delight with that damnable cream. Malfoy was wide awake.

"Where did you get it?" he asked.

"Hmmm?" Harry asked sleepily.

"The salve. Where did you get it?"

"Oh. Fred and George."

Draco should have known. He touched his tongue to his lips. They still tingled where Harry had kissed him, titillated like the rest of his body. They tasted of vanilla custard. Draco knew he would never again taste or smell vanilla without thinking of Harry.

"Do they make other flavors?"

Harry chuckled. "Not yet."

Draco's hand flitted down Harry's spine to the crack of his ass and back up. Again. And again. Slowly.

"Chocolate," Harry muttered.

"What's that?"

"They need to make chocolate flavor." Potter's lips tickled Draco's neck when he spoke. Malfoy nearly shivered. He twisted a hand in Potter's hair and pulled his head back to expose his lips for a kiss. Draco sucked on Harry's mouth until he felt Potter's breathing change to something less languid.

"Must you do that?" Harry mumbled around Draco's lips.

"What? Kiss you?"

"No. Pull my hair."

"I think you like it."

"You might try asking if I like it, instead of assuming."

Draco grinned hugely.

"Do you like it?" he asked seductively.

Harry groaned. "If I say no you'll accuse me of lying."

"That's because you like it."

"You're such a Slytherin."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, I love you."

Draco pulled his hair again at those words and kissed Harry until his breathing turned into lovely panting gasps and his fingers dug into Draco's flesh.

Mission accomplished. Harry was no longer remotely sleepy. Draco smiled.

ooOoo

Harry felt Malfoy's hand disentangle from his hair and admitted to himself that yes, damn it, he liked it when Draco pulled his hair. Damned Slytherin always had to be right.

Malfoy seemed determined to keep Harry awake if the kissing was any indication, so Harry was surprised when Draco eased out from under him and slipped off the bed. He didn't wonder for long. Draco hopped back on the bed and crawled between Harry's legs, planting a hand on Potter's back to make sure he remained lying on his stomach.

Harry raised himself onto his elbows to look over his shoulder. Malfoy had the jar of Salacious Salve in his hand. Before Harry could speak, Draco plopped a generous handful between his shoulder blades. His hand smoothed the cream over Harry's shoulders and neck, moving with tantalizing slowness. Draco's thumbs dug into the tense spots at the base of Harry's neck where worry had tightened into knots earlier in the day.

Bloody hell, the stuff tingled wickedly, but in a very pleasant manner. Draco would huff a breath over his back every so often and Harry understood why Draco had been so wild before. Harry began to fear retaliation.

Draco worked on his arms and then eased his way to the center of Harry's back. He massaged the balm into Harry's arse, though his long fingers stayed away from sensitive areas, even though Harry's legs were spread wide and he was plenty hard again.

Malfoy carefully caressed his way down each of Harry's legs, pausing only to lap at the tender flesh at the backs of Harry's knees, nearly sending Potter into spasms and causing Draco to chuckle maliciously. He already knew every reactive spot on Harry's body.

The feet were a wonder. Harry had never before had his feet massaged and decided it was an experience he would gladly repeat over and over. Malfoy's strong hands kneaded, pressed, and caressed until Harry wanted to die of bliss. At least until Draco ran his tongue along the underside of Harry's toes, nearly causing him to leap out of his skin.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cried. Draco chuckled and repeated the action. Harry's fingers crushed the bedcovers convulsively. "Stop that!"

"A bit sensitive, Potter?"

"Yes!"

"No toe sucking?"

"God, no!" Harry's toes were apparently far too responsive for that and the bloody salve was not helping matters.

"All right, Potter." Malfoy's hand trailed delicately over Harry's thighs. Harry felt Draco's tongue draw a line up his spine to his neck and stop at his ear. Malfoy's body pressed the length of Harry's, hot and sensual against Potter's skin. Draco nibbled on Harry's earlobe and the hot breath sent shivers racing through him.

"It does taste good," Draco said. "Nearly as good as you, Harry." He licked Harry's jaw for emphasis. "Time to turn over."

Draco hoisted himself up and rolled Harry onto his back, who smiled when he looked at the handsome Slytherin. The perfect lips were pursed in that sexy pout Draco acquired whenever he plotted seductive wickedness and the silver eyes were almost charcoal in the dim light of the oil lamps. His platinum hair shone—fully dry now except for a few damp tendrils. It partially obscured Draco's chiseled face as he leaned down and he flipped it over his shoulder with a careless toss of his head.

"I love it when you look at me like that," Malfoy said huskily and his lips parted to show brilliant white teeth.

Harry thought he might be the luckiest person alive. The feeling was confirmed when Draco kissed him. Harry's arms wrapped around Malfoy, but Draco captured his hands and put them back on the bed.

"I'm not finished," he said and chuckled. He sat up and Harry grinned when Draco started to massage his chest and abdomen. The damned Slytherin kept up a running commentary that slowly began to drive Harry wild.

"Your skin is so smooth, Harry. So bloody hot. And look at these lovely abs." His long fingers slowly caressed the part under scrutiny, flicking slowly over every muscle. "And your beautiful navel." Draco kissed it lingeringly and Harry shivered.

"Of course, then there is this," Malfoy said and smoothed the warm cream ever so gently over Harry's erect cock. Potter waited breathlessly while Draco stroked.

"Well?" he prompted finally.

"Oh, it will do," Draco admitted. Harry levered himself onto his elbows to stare at the Slytherin.

"It will do?" he demanded hotly and Draco laughed aloud. His silver eyes sparkled.

"You know it's perfect, Harry," he said and then added, "Just like the rest of you."

Harry lay back with a groan, knowing he was blushing again. Malfoy's words had left him with a slight tightness in his throat, damn him. Harry was quickly distracted by Draco turning him on his side and pressing his body against Harry's back once more.

"I want to feel all of you," Malfoy whispered in his ear as he slowly pushed his hard shaft into Harry. Draco's hands were warm on Harry's hips, guiding him until Malfoy was fully encompassed.

"You feel so bloody good, Harry," he murmured. Draco began to move and Harry could not form a coherent reply. Soon he could only gasp and make primitive noises while Malfoy punctuated every thrust with a continuous breathy chant of, "Harry, Harry, Harry," that set Potter's blood on fire. Malfoy's hand slid back to Harry's erection—as if he needed more stimulation!

"Draco. _Draco, God!_" he finally countered. He felt Draco shudder at the same instant he lost control. Spasms shook them simultaneously and Malfoy's arms reached up to grip Harry tightly around the waist. Harry locked his fingers into Draco's.

Neither of them could speak for a moment.

"Damn," Draco finally said.

"Yes," Harry agreed fervently. They both chuckled.

"The Weasley twins may live," Draco decided.

"That's very generous of you," Harry replied with an amused grin.

They were still for a long while, locked intimately together, until their hearts resumed a normal pace and their breathing became slow and even. Harry wondered if Draco had fallen asleep.

"Draco?" he asked softly.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm still awake."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen **

"How long do the effects of this bloody ointment last?" Draco asked and quickly added, "Not that I mind shagging you all night long…"

"I don't know. It didn't come with operating instructions."

"Well, since we're awake, do you want a tour of the castle?"

" Blarney Castle? Why not? It's unlikely I'll be back in Ireland any time soon," Harry said. Draco fixed his hair while Harry pulled a black jumper out of his pack. He tossed it to Draco with a pair of black trousers. Malfoy held up the jumper critically. Potter must have snatched the first thing he saw. He would have preferred the grey cashmere or his favorite—he snatched his boots out of the air as Harry sailed them toward the bed. Draco clutched them happily.

"You'll never be so glad to see boots until you have to walk miles without them. Now where did I put my—fuck!"

Harry's head snapped up in surprise.

"What is it?"

"My damned clothes! Maeve has them. She'll know someone mucked about with her memory if she finds them laid out on her bedside table or wherever the hell she put them."

"Is there anything on them to link them to you?"

Draco thought hard. Torn white shirt. Black trousers. Socks.

"No."

"No monogrammed stitching? No tag that reads 'Property of Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God?'" Harry prodded.

"No, but I might start adding those to my clothes; I rather like the sound of it." Draco snapped his fingers. "She has the Portkey."

"The one that brought you here?"

"No, the one I found in the forest." Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course the one that brought me here."

"Well, if she recovers her memory, she may figure out what it is, but it won't do her much good, will it? It's one-way, after all."

"True, I suppose."

"Do you know where she lives? Maybe we can go take it back."

Draco shook his head. "I was unconscious when she brought me to Blarney. We could have _Apparated_, for all I know."

Harry gasped. "That's right! _Apparition_ still works here! No bloody dark magic!"

"Doesn't help us at the moment though, does it?"

"Shall we see if Maeve is still where you left her?" Harry's voice was slightly disapproving. God forbid Draco leave the evil, murderous witch lying on the ground in the rain. He sighed.

They dressed quickly and returned to the clearing where Draco had nearly been killed. The rain was pouring as though released from floodgates.

Maeve was gone.

"Damn me, I'm going to regret that," Draco said.

"Regret what?" Harry asked.

"Letting her live," Draco said flatly.

"I'm going to pretend you're joking," Harry decided.

Draco wished he was. Anyone willing to hold a grudge against Lucius for untold years would have no trouble transferring that hatred to Draco.

"Let's go back inside," Draco said.

"Can Maeve get in here?" Harry asked when they returned to the cave.

"Not while we're here. It is password protected once it's occupied."

"What's the password?"

"I didn't set one. Who is going to need it? Come along, let's go play tourist."

Malfoy found the concealed door near the tub and entered a dark, spiderweb-filled passage that looked unused for centuries. Draco held his wand high and felt Harry's hand passage his waistband as Potter stumbled behind him in the dark. It finally opened into the castle itself, though a hidden doorway in a blank wall. The place looked eerie at night.

Draco held up his lit wand and looked at Harry, not sure where to take him first. He sighed and picked a matt of spider web from Harry's dark hair, flicking it off with distaste. Draco tsked and started off.

He blandly pointed out items of interest like a bored tour guide, though he was glad to see Potter avidly taking in the sights. The Gryffindor was like a child sometimes—he got excited by the damnedest things. Harry practically ran up the ludicrous amount of steps to reach the top of the castle. The wind had picked up and the rain slashed sideways in gusts, soaking them both regardless of the umbrella spells.

"Are you going to kiss the Blarney Stone?" Harry asked, talking loudly over the downpour.

"Do you really think I need to?" Draco countered.

"Heaven's no."

"Besides, the Muggles quite ruined the experience. They attached safety bars to keep themselves from plummeting to their deaths."

"Damn those Muggles and their fear of death!" Harry swore vehemently. Malfoy punched him in the arm, but chuckled anyway.

"It's so unsanitary. No way will _these_ lips touch something that untold foul Muggles have pressed their vile mouths to."

"Well, _I'm_ kissing it." Harry marched forward and levered himself over the edge. Draco was suddenly glad of the safety-minded Muggles. He would have been… concerned if Harry had suspended himself over nothingness in this rain.

Potter dragged himself back up.

"There. I kissed the Blarney Stone. Now I'm kissing you. To share the germs of thousands of foul Muggles."

"No, you are not," Draco said. He held up a warning finger and backed away from the wet Gryffindor. Harry stalked him.

"Oh, yes I am."

Draco bolted. He nearly broke his neck on the steep stairs as they pelted through the castle. Harry was laughing riotously and had to stop a few times to clutch his heaving sides, which made Malfoy erupt into giggles watching him. Harry nearly had him cornered a few times, but Draco always managed to slip away. Potter finally hit him with a Full Body Bind and laughed wickedly as he approached Draco and pressed his cool lips against Malfoy's. Harry released the spell wordlessly and deepened the kiss. Draco sighed happily and squeezed him tightly.

"You fight dirty, Potter."

"I learned from the best."

After that, Draco decided to kiss Harry in every single room of the castle, which took some time, especially when they started losing track of where they had been and Potter started to look like he was losing track of what planet he was on. They finally gave up and returned to the Druid's Cave to make love again. At some point it occurred to them that maybe they could simply bathe and scrub the salve off. It worked admirably and they fell into an exhausted slumber wrapped in each other's arms.

ooOoo

Harry woke before Draco, which was a novel experience. Malfoy was sprawled at an angle across the bed, taking up quite a lot more than half of it. He had also kicked off nearly all the coverings, most of which were stacked on Harry. The rest were on the floor. Harry sighed and unburied himself.

Damn, but he was starved. They had quite forgotten to eat the night before, and Harry had foregone lunch to race after Draco in single-minded obsession.

Potter dragged on his jeans and went to dig in his pack. He had snatched random food items from Number 12, Grimmauld Place—a loaf of bread, a tin of (Draco's) Russian caviar, proscuitto, a small wheel of some sort of cheese, and a jar of olives. Harry looked at the jar in bemusement. He didn't like olives. He had no idea if Malfoy liked olives.

There was a rudimentary fireplace in one wall, hacked from the natural stone, but Harry wasn't certain he should use it. Would the smoke be visible outside? A teapot sat on a table near the fireplace and Harry quickly conjured water to fill it. He brought it to boiling with his wand and made some strong tea before slicing the bread and making a sandwich of the meat and cheese.

Draco stirred while Harry sipped at his second cup of tea. He had parked himself on the edge of the bed to watch the Slytherin sleep. He always enjoyed the sight of Draco's hair mussed and spread out over the pillow. Malfoy's lashes were incredibly long. They flicked open and the grey eyes focused on Harry.

"I won't even ask what you're doing," the Slytherin mumbled.

"Watching you. You sleep like a precious ickle angel."

"If you weren't holding hot tea I'd make you eat those words."

Harry smirked. Draco stretched his lithe body and sat up. He snagged the cup from Harry's hands and took a drink before handing it back with a grimace.

"God, Potter, could you put more sugar in there? I think I tasted some tea beneath the gagging sweetness." He collapsed back onto the bed.

Harry got up to prepare a cup for Malfoy, who liked the merest skiff of sugar and a gallon of cream, though he would have to settle for sugar today. Harry had not toted cream. Harry drank his black with loads of sugar. Malfoy stretched again lazily.

"Any idea what time it is?"

"Not the slightest," Harry said pleasantly. He found that he didn't care, either. "What shall we do today?"

"Go home?" Draco suggested. "It's a long flight, you know."

"Not really," Harry said blandly.

"How did you get here so quickly, anyway? Tell me you didn't _Apparate_!" The alarm in Draco's voice startled Harry.

"No, of course not. I'm not _that_ reckless. I took a Muggle airplane."

Draco's face was carefully blank.

"We will not be going back that way."

"Yes, we will," Harry countered. "It's faster."

"I refuse to pack myself into a flying tin can stuffed with a horrendous mass of—"

"Don't start!" Harry said loudly. "You need not dredge up your library of Muggle insults!"

"I'd rather _Apparate_," Draco said stubbornly.

"We're not _Apparating_."

"You know, I've been thinking about that," Malfoy said. "We know it's safe to _Apparate_ _from_ here, right?"

Harry watched him narrowly. "Yes."

"And we know there is no dark magic around Malfoy Manor, correct?"

"Nothing you didn't put there yourself, you mean?"

"Yes. So we should be able to _Apparate_ from here to Malfoy Manor."

"_Should_," Harry said vehemently. "We don't know for certain. We don't have a handle yet on how this works."

"Gryffindors are supposed to be brave," Malfoy said with something akin to a pout.

"Slytherins are supposed to be… well…" Harry stopped. "What are Slytherins supposed to be?"

"Determined."

"Oh. If by 'determined' you mean 'ruthless' then, yes, I'll buy that. Besides, we can't _Apparate_ with Hedwig."

"Why not?"

"Have you ever _Apparated_ with an owl? It might kill her."

Harry glared at Draco, daring him to mention that he'd buy Harry another owl if Hedwig died. Draco glared back.

"What do you propose, then?" Malfoy asked.

"We fly to the nearest Muggle city, get on a plane, and be home within three hours."

"All right. I concede. Have it your way," Draco said mildly and alarm bells began to clang in Harry's brain. Whenever Malfoy was agreeable, it meant trouble.

"I'm going outside to see what time it is. I should send a _Patronus_ message to Hermione, too," Harry said.

"Say 'hi' for me. Tell her I'm killing her husband when I get back."

Harry started to argue, but realized at the last moment that Malfoy had thrown the comment out as bait and Harry had nearly snatched it up like a starving mongrel.

"Why are you so tetchy today?" Harry asked instead.

Draco sighed and brushed a hand through his hair before primping it with his usual spell.

"I don't know. I'm just tired. We didn't exactly sleep much." His silver eyes combed Potter's body, causing the slightest lurch in Harry's breathing.

"You can sleep on the plane," Harry said and managed to keep the taunt from his voice—barely. He knew there was slim chance of Draco sleeping even if he did manage to wrestle him onto an airplane. He would have to put Draco by a window and hope to hell no Muggles got too close to him. It would be hard to explain Malfoy recoiling in revulsion every time anyone got near, although there was probably a Muggle mental illness that would justify it.

Harry climbed the stairs and was pleased to note the rain had stopped. It was still overcast, but the clouds were bunching and seemed likely to break up. Harry judged the time to be close to midday. A white flash caught his eye and he raised an arm. Hedwig landed on his forearm and he gave her a pat.

"Ready to go home, girl?" he asked.

"I am," Malfoy said behind him, nearly giving Harry heart failure. The Slytherin could be deathly quiet when he chose. Harry clenched his jaw and wondered how long Draco planned to maintain his current annoying mood. Malfoy held his arm up to Harry's and the owl climbed onto it obediently. She had grown to like Draco over the past few months.

Malfoy stroked her feathers for a moment and then his silver eyes looked at Harry with a wicked glint.

"Wait…" Harry began, but Draco disappeared with a crack. Harry gaped at the place where Malfoy and Hedwig had been for a shocked instant, until his name was called. He turned and saw Draco walking toward him from across the clearing. Hedwig took to the air and sought refuge in a nearby tree.

"Are you completely barmy?" Harry yelled. "What if that had killed her? Hell, what if a Muggle had seen you? What if—?"

Draco grabbed him. "She's fine, Harry." He planted a kiss on Potter's lips, but Harry shook him off, not willing to be distracted by Malfoy's mind-numbing kisses.

"We're not in that big a hurry," Harry said, keeping Draco at arm's length. "We can fly back by broom, if you absolutely insist, but we are _not_ _Apparating_. I nearly lost you once, I won't risk it again."

Malfoy crossed his arms and smiled.

"All right, Potter," he drawled. "Whatever you say."

Harry glared at him suspiciously. Draco laughed.

"Seriously. Let's fly to Cork and you can decide from there. It isn't far."

They returned to the cave and stowed their gear before sealing the Druid's Cave. Harry walked to the edge of the manicured area to avoid any stray Muggle tourists, although the day was chilly and it was doubtful they would venture out. Potter called Hedwig and returned her to the cage he had strapped to his broom, giving Draco a reproachful stare. Malfoy shrugged. Harry mounted and Draco climbed on behind him, pressing himself intimately against Harry's back. Malfoy's lips nuzzled his neck, sending a frisson down Potter's spine.

Harry chuckled throatily. "Stop that."

Draco's arm was tightly around his waist and Harry prepared to kick off, sending them into the air. He noticed a moment too late that Malfoy had his wand out.

"Hang on, Potter," Draco said next to his ear and Harry felt the lurching sensation of _Disapparition_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

They appeared before the front steps of Malfoy Manor.

"Damn you, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, but Draco grabbed him and kissed the Gryffindor before he could finish his tirade. Malfoy was ecstatic. It had worked!

Harry struggled in his arms, no doubt intent on berating Draco for being reckless and foolish and all manner of unpleasant Slytherin traits, but Malfoy simply kept kissing him until Harry could barely breathe and his eyes had that passionate, glazed look that always made Draco want to drag him straight to the bedroom.

"Shall we go inside?" Draco asked finally.

"Hmmm?" Harry asked in bemusement. Broom and owl cage were on the ground, forgotten, and Potter's hands were tangled in Draco's hair.

"Inside," Draco repeated gently.

Harry's eyes slowly came back into focus. He released Draco with a mumbled, "Damn you."

Malfoy shushed him with a grin. "It's too late to scold me, now. We've been here for ten minutes. We're all alive, including your precious owl, and I would like to go inside. Come along."

He patted Harry on the buttocks and headed for the house. Inside the front hall, he dropped Harry's pack and turned toward the kitchen, intent upon creating a decent meal since he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, but a movement at the head of the stairs caught his eye. He reached for his wand and his hand froze in midair as he was immobilized.

The spellcaster walked down the steps with a rustle of dark green robes. Draco cursed roundly, several times, although no sound escaped his lips. It was _Maeve_.

The front door opened behind Draco and Potter said, "Malfoy, we're not finished—"

Draco nearly felt his heart stop as Maeve shouted and a burst of red light shot from her wand. Malfoy heard a thud and knew Harry had fallen.

_Don't let it be anything deadly_, he begged.

"Draco Malfoy," Maeve said and walked forward to peer up into his eyes. "Yes, I know your name. You are wondering how I got here, eh, laddie? That's a fine tale, it is. You see, when I awoke at Blarney in the mud and wet, I went home. Bloody hell, but I was confused. I did not even know why I was out there."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. Her hand was cold. "And then I saw some unfamiliar clothing on my sofa. Who did they belong to, I wondered? I searched and found a strange object in the pocket. And what could the ridiculous thing be? It looked bloody worthless. In fact, it looked like a Portkey used by the Ministry of Magic, it did. If so, I needed to know if I'd been under attack. Obviously, _someone_ had been toying with my memories."

She patted his cheek, hard, almost a slap. "I retrieved my own Portkey from my room; the one that takes me to the Ministry of Magic in London. Ah, yes, I have friends there, Malfoy. I went to school at Hogwarts, same as you, you know. My friends helped me to recover my memory. They told me plenty about you, son of Lucius. Apparently, you're nearly a celebrity. Almost as famous as your little friend—the one you were snogging outside, I presume?" She tsked as if disappointed.

"It's not enough for you to break the hearts of the lassies, eh, Malfoy? Had to start on the lads, as well? At least Lucius never trod that path. Not that I've heard, at any rate. Perhaps you know better."

She sighed.

"I left the Ministry this morning to come here. Luckily, I remembered where Malfoy Manor was located. I was here before, you know."

Draco wagered she was. Maeve had probably stalked his father like an obsessive menace until he had cast some sort of repulsing spell to keep her away.

"Looks like you've been busy, Malfoy. I wasn't sure what I'd find here. The Ministry said the Manor had been destroyed. It's almost too bad you'll never finish it."

Draco struggled to move, but the bitch's _Full Body Bind_ held him in place.

"After your wicked treatment of me, Draco, lad, I've decided to make you my willing slave, after all. It will be nice to watch you crawl. You'll beg for every morsel of kindness from me and I plan to treat you like the lowest dog as you sicken and die of unrequited love for me. Pleading for the kind words I'll never give you."

Her green eyes were quite mad and Draco felt a distinct sense of horror at her words, especially when she held up a small vial with a bright pink potion inside. She shook it teasingly.

"Yes, Draco, dear. A love potion. Fitting justice for a Malfoy. How many hearts have you destroyed, you handsome devil? It's time to return the favor."

She tucked her wand into her belt and loosened the stopper on the vial. It released from the bottle with a small pop and she slipped the cork into a pocket. Maeve reached up and Draco felt her cool hand on his jaw, prying it open. The vial was warm against his lower lip.

Maeve tipped the liquid into his mouth and Draco felt it on his tongue—it tasted of cinnamon and red pepper, and was both hot and cold at once. It trickled down his throat and he wondered if he could drown in it. Better that than to fall passionately in love with Maeve. God, what would it do to his feelings for Harry? Would it cancel them completely? Or would he still love Potter?

Most likely he would be so beset with lust for Maeve that what he felt for Harry would be overshadowed and finally forgotten. Draco wished he could close his eyes. He hoped to hell she had not attuned the potion, although it wouldn't matter with her staring into his eyes the way she was now.

"_Hey!_" Draco heard someone yell and then Maeve and vial were gone. Draco heard another thump and a small clink as the vial hit the floor. "Malfoy! What the hell?"

Oh God, it was Ron Weasley. _Please don't let the red-haired bastard walk over here and look at me._ Much of the potion was still in Draco's mouth, but at least half of the vial's contents had gone down his throat.

Draco could suddenly move again. He clamped his eyes shut in relief and spat out the remainder of the potion.

"Who was that?" Ron asked beside him. "Where is—_Harry!_"

Weasley had obviously caught sight of Potter. Draco turned and groped his way to the front door, keeping his eyes tightly closed. He tripped over Harry and sprawled atop him.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you're crushing him! What are you doing?" Weasley demanded.

"Is he alive?" Draco asked, running his hands frantically over Harry's body—arm, abdomen, chest, face. He pressed his lips quickly against Harry's and felt for a pulse on Potter's neck.

"Just stunned," said Weasley. "Here, I'll fix it." Ron cast a spell and Harry stirred. Draco sat back a bit and opened his eyes at the same instant Harry did. The second his gaze met the green orbs, a flood of sensation blasted through Draco. Lust, desire, need, and something immensely stronger. Malfoy's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders.

"What is it?" Harry asked. "What's happened?"

The strange, molten feelings seemed to lessen to a warm glow, enveloping Draco like a blanket. He smiled softly into Harry's beautiful face. He could not resist leaning down and planting a searing kiss on his lips.

Weasley made a coughing sound and Harry pushed Draco back forcibly.

"Why am I on the floor? Did you stun me? No more snogging until—_Ron?_ What are you doing here?"

Draco sat back on his haunches, but he kept one hand on his beloved Gryffindor as Harry sat up. Potter looked at him worriedly and Draco sighed happily as his eyes took in the cute crease that formed on Potter's forehead when he made that gesture. Malfoy wanted to kiss him again.

"Hermione told me I should come here," Ron said. "To make… to make amends. She said I should help Malfoy rebuild the Manor. But Malfoy wasn't here and I didn't dare touch anything inside the house, so I went out to the garden and started weeding. For something to do."

Harry and Draco got to their feet while Weasley spoke. Draco immediately wrapped his arms around Harry tightly and pressed soft kisses against his neck.

Ron's voice broke for a moment and he cleared his throat.

"I came inside through the back door. Thirsty work, weeding. I heard voices and walked around the corner to see that woman forcing a potion down Malfoy's throat."

"_A potion?_" Harry cried and stiffened in Draco's arms.

"A love potion," Draco clarified, sliding his tongue over the sweet indentation of flesh beneath Harry's ear.

"Oh, God," Harry said hoarsely. "What happened?"

Draco whispered, "Luckily, Maeve didn't attune it to herself. I fell in love with the first person I saw."

"Which was… me?" Harry asked.

"Lucky, lucky me," Draco murmured and sucked on Harry's delicious earlobe.

"Thank God… but you already loved me."

"Yes, and now I'm completely fucking giddy with it," Draco said, moving his attention to the perfect, crisp edge of Potter's jaw. "Get rid of Weasley so we can go upstairs."

Harry turned around and put his hands on Draco's shoulders to push him back gently.

"What about Maeve?" he asked. Draco's overwhelming lust diminished slightly as his gaze flicked to the prone witch. His eyes narrowed. Malfoy reluctantly released Potter and stalked over to strip the wand from Maeve's belt. Ron picked up the potion vial, which had not broken on the wooden floor. A small pink pool lay on the floor and Weasley spelled it back into the vial and conjured a cork.

"I can send this to Hermione and see if she has an antidote," he offered.

"I'll send Hedwig," Harry said and Ron handed him the bottle.

Malfoy looked at Ron grimly.

"Thanks for saving me from the psychotic bitch, Weasel," Draco said. Ron nodded, looking sheepish.

Draco's fist shot out and slammed into Weasley's jaw. Ron flew backward, crashed into the wall, and sank to a heap on the floor.

"_Draco!_" Harry bellowed.

"What? He sent me to fucking Ireland without a wand. This entire Maeve ordeal was _his_ fault. Be glad he's still breathing."

Draco turned away and levitated Maeve before guiding her body down the hall.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Taking care of our friend Maeve, of course."

"You won't kill her?" the Gryffindor called sharply.

"No, Potter. Just for you, I won't kill her." Draco sighed. He reflected that Harry would be damned annoying if he weren't so utterly adorable.

Malfoy maneuvered Maeve downstairs to the only part of the Manor that was original—his father's secret library. What Potter did not know was that there were a few secret doors in the room. One opened on an escape route that led far out onto the grounds. Another led to a room similar to a dungeon that Lucius had called the Interrogation Room. A third was more of a huge, concealed cabinet containing illegal potions, questionable and dangerous items, and assorted Malfoy family heirlooms.

Draco twitched his wand and tossed Maeve roughly into a chair. He hit her with a second Stunner, just to be safe. And because he felt like it.

Harry thumped down the steps.

"Ron is out cold," he said reproachfully. "I put him in the library. What do you plan to do with Maeve?"

Draco's eyes fixed on Potter and he watched the Gryffindor walk into the room with his usual unconscious grace. His black hair was awry—no doubt he had been tearing at it in frustration over Weasley's condition. Malfoy smiled and his heart did a slow roll of pure pleasure.

"I plan to modify her memory. Correctly this time."

Harry's lovely mouth twisted into a moue of disapproval and Draco took several strides forward and hungrily took Potter's lips with his own. His hands moved over Harry's body, dragging the shirt from Potter's waistband. He pressed his palms against Harry's skin. Bloody hell, he tasted so amazingly good…

Harry broke the kiss by gripping both sides of Draco's head and pushing him away forcibly. Potter's eyes were glazing over again and his lips were wet from Draco's saliva. Malfoy groaned and dragging him closer, pressing Harry hard against him. Potter avoided his lips—barely—so Draco attached his mouth to Harry's smooth neck, instead. He slid his tongue over Potter's jugular and sucked lightly.

Harry gasped and his hands seemed to go nerveless against Draco's head. A swift movement of Malfoy's hand ripped Harry's shirt open. Draco chuckled at the welcome sound of buttons hitting the floor.

"Harry. Harry. Harry," Draco murmured. He felt absolutely drunk on delight, lost in a cloud of bliss.

Potter suddenly pushed him away forcibly and stood panting at arm's length. His eyes were wild and his chest heaved beneath his torn shirt. Damn, he was hot… so hot, so incredibly hot.

"Draco, stop!" Harry demanded shakily. Malfoy shut his eyes to block out the sight of the Gryffindor and took a step back, hoping to clear his head. "We've got to deal with our 'guests!'"

"You need to go, Harry," he said hoarsely. "I can't control myself right now. Go take care of Weasley, or something."

Thankfully, for once Harry did not argue. He hurried upstairs without another word. Draco sighed, already missing him terribly, and took a step as if to follow. Then he scowled and turned back to Maeve.

"Damned love potion," he muttered.

Malfoy opened the secret cabinet with his wand and searched until he found what he sought. A potion. Draco lifted the dusty brown bottle and read the label with a wicked smile. Lucius had invented it. The Ministry would cheerfully have tossed Draco into Azkaban for using it, but first they would have to learn of it. Malfoy did not plan for that to happen.

He returned to Maeve and uncorked it. His hands shook for a moment at the thought of what Harry would say—bloody hell, the Gryffindor would be livid. Draco took a deep breath and reminded himself that he loved Harry, but that did not mean he needed to turn into a damned Gryffindor.

Draco grabbed Maeve's jaw and tipped the potion into her mouth with a grim sense of satisfaction at the turnabout. That would teach her to fuck with a Malfoy.

He quickly cast a spell to wake her up. The green eyes blinked for a moment and finally focused.

"Hi, Maeve," he said pleasantly. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. You are Draco Malfoy."

"And what is it you desire?"

"To serve you," she said instantly.

Draco grinned broadly. "Excellent."

ooOoo

Harry returned to the library to check on Ron. Weasley had a sizable lump on the back of his head and a red imprint on his jaw that would become a nasty bruise. Harry supposed he could heal both wounds, but when he thought of Maeve standing over Draco with that knife, he had to admit to a lack of contrition.

He conjured a handful of buttons and repaired his torn shirt, blushing as he recalled Draco's amorous attack. Harry had better get the love potion antidote from Hermione as quickly as possible. So thinking, he went to the desk and jotted a note before wrapping the parchment around the potion vial. Harry hurried outside to find Hedwig, who seemed none the worse for wear after the Apparition experience, damn Draco for always being right.

Harry fastened the potion and note to the owl's leg and sent her to Hermione before returning to the Manor. Draco strode down the hall, followed by a docile Maeve. Harry quickly tugged out his wand, but he was enveloped by Draco's embrace before he could determine if he needed it.

Malfoy pressed several kisses to Harry's forehead before pushing him away through what seemed sheer willpower.

"Maeve, this is Harry Potter."

The red-haired witch curtsied prettily. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter." Harry felt his brows nearly meet his hairline with surprise.

"I insist that you serve Potter as completely as you would me," Draco said.

Maeve nodded. "As you wish, sir. What can I do for you now, if you please?"

"A cup of tea would be nice," Draco commented. "You'll find the kitchen that way." He waved a hand down the hall and Maeve hurried away with a clack of heels on wood. Harry stared after her.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked sharply.

"Just a little memory modification," Draco said evasively.

"Memory modification," Harry repeated dubiously. "That quickly? And what is up with that 'you will serve him' business?"

"I sort of made her believe she works for me."

"Draco! That is—"

"You are absolutely adorable when you scowl like that. I'm beginning to think I intentionally make you angry just to see it."

Harry quickly backed away, holding up both hands to ward off the Slytherin, who had obviously finished discussing his new servant. Potter tried one last time.

"Draco, that is blatant manipulation. You can't just turn someone into a… a human house-elf."

Malfoy's eyes glittered, although he did not stop his inexorable stalk toward Harry.

"Would you rather it was Maeve I intended to kiss at this moment, Harry? Would you prefer I look at her the way I'm looking at you right now?"

Harry had backed up against the wall. He sought for an escape.

"No, Malfoy, of course not. I just think it's…"

He was silenced by Draco's mouth on his and realized if he didn't escort Malfoy up to the bedroom soon the Slytherin was going to take Harry in the front hall, regardless of their current visitors.

Harry would never have guessed he would be glad to see Maeve, but she returned wheeling a tea cart with Draco's polished silver tea set. Malfoy sighed deeply and released him.

"We'll have tea in the library, Maeve," Draco said casually. He spoke with the confident grace of the lord of the manor—which he was, Harry realized. He looked at Draco with grudging respect. Malfoy caught the look and, groaning, reached for Harry again, but Potter danced away.

"Later," he promised huskily and that brilliant smile flashed out at him. _God, not too much later,_ he amended to himself. He practically ran after Maeve to the library.

Ron was beginning to revive. Maeve poured tea. Harry stopped in the center of the room and Draco's arms went around his waist and warm lips tickled his neck. He thought about tying Malfoy up for awhile and _that_ thought nearly caused him to turn around and take the Slytherin straight upstairs.

Weasley sat up and immediately fingered his jaw.

"Damn," he muttered. "What hit me?" His blue eyes flicked to Draco in sudden recollection. "Oh."

Malfoy chuckled. "Yes, Weasley, you may thank Potter here for the fact that Granger is not mourning your demise."

"Thanks, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Maeve, I have a small job for you," Draco said.

"Yes, sir," she said obediently.

"Please return home to Ireland and copy every single spell book and scroll you own into nice, neat volumes. Bring them back here when you have finished."

"Yes, sir. As you wish, sir."

Maeve _Disapparated_.

"One down, one to go," Draco whispered. His fingers were crawling slowly up Harry's ribcage.

"Ron… we're pretty tired. I think we'll go… upstairs to rest. Can you… take care of things for awhile?" Harry said with a breathy tone to his voice.

Ron buried his face in his hands and nodded.

Harry made it out of the room placidly enough with Draco's hand on the small of his back, but they both took the stairs two at a time and pounded down the hall to Malfoy's room at a dead run.

ooOoo

Draco brushed a thumb over Harry's jaw and stroked the Gryffindor's face, even though he had already memorized every plane of it. The green eyes were soft and liquid and a mystified grin curved his lips. His breath mingled with Draco's. Harry's fingers drew random designs on Malfoy's chest.

"Love potion, eh?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

"Actually, I don't feel that much different," Draco admitted. "Except that I can't seem to stop touching you."

"That's different?" Harry joked.

Draco grinned. "You have a point."

"I suppose the constant touching thing might get cloying. After a month or two."

"So I should take the antidote?"

"You should definitely take the antidote. Just not _too_ soon." Harry laughed and then sobered. "I want to be sure you love me of your own free will."

"You need not worry on that account, Potter. Speaking of free will, I wonder how long Weasley plans to be my willing slave?"

"How long will _Maeve_ be your willing slave? Don't you think she'll shake your memory charm again?"

"Not this time," Malfoy said confidently. The Obedience Potion developed by his father was permanent unless countered by the antidote, which was safely downstairs in the cabinet, never to be used.

"Well, hopefully the task you set her to will take a few months," Harry said with a resigned sigh. He knew by now that Draco could be evasive for weeks, if necessary.

"If she finishes early, I'll have her copy another set for Granger."

"You're completely unscrupulous."

Draco kissed him, pleased. "I know, thank you."

Harry poked him with a laugh and Draco sighed happily.

"Are you glad to be home?" Potter asked.

"Wherever you are is home to me, Harry."

The green eyes softened into luminous pools and he kissed Draco tenderly.

"You always know exactly what to say, don't you?"

"And all without kissing the damned Blarney Stone," Draco drawled.

Author's Note: Yes, this is the End!!! Sort of. Part Four is nearly finished. So much for a trilogy, eh? I can't seem to stop.


End file.
